Unsentimental Creatures Are We
by QueenOfTheDreamers87
Summary: 1968. A freak potions accident at the Black family home leaves Bellatrix as the only survivor. She takes refuge at Malfoy Manor, which also hosts Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort. The two befriend one another, and soon it becomes more than just friendship. Kindred spirits soon develop a familiar dynamic in a world altered by missing souls. Bellamort, Part I of The Dream Series.
1. Chapter 1

17 December 1968

Malfoy Manor

"Bellatrix. Come sit down."

She did, moving slowly, her disbelief still coursing through her as she blinked slowly and whispered,

"Thank you for the hospitality, Mrs Malfoy."

Jessamyn Malfoy's elegant blonde bun, usually tightly in place, was just slightly askew tonight. Everyone was just a little wonky tonight, after receiving the news of what had happened to the Black family.

Bellatrix alone had survived through quick thinking. Her father had been brewing up a potion - a hair regrowth potion, of all things - and something had gone very, very wrong. The fumes that had been released had been so noxious that they'd filled the house with suffocating gases. Cygnus had gone first, since he'd been standing over the cauldron. Druella and the House-Elf had collapsed silently in the library. Andromeda and Narcissa had choked and sputtered in their bedrooms. Bellatrix, who had been reading in the conservatory, had blasted out the windows and gone running out into the garden, coughing and gasping for air. But she'd lived. She had been the only one to live.

 _A terrible accident,_ everyone was saying. But all Bellatrix could think was how very vain her father was to need hair regrowth potion badly enough to kill his family over it, and how stupid he was to botch it that badly. All she could think of was Narcissa's little face as she scrappled at her dresser, sending perfume bottles and mirrors flying.

"Now, my dear," said Abraxas Malfoy, who had been Cygnus' closest friend and looked shaky and aggrieved, "your parents' wills stipulated for the care of you… girls… in the case of their deaths. But Andromeda and Narcissa both perished, and you are of age."

"So I am on my own," Bellatrix nodded numbly. Mrs Malfoy shook her head vehemently.

"No, my dear," she said, her voice harsh from much crying. "You must stay here, with us."

Bellatrix blinked a few times. "But you already host Mr Riddle."

She wasn't sure whether to use the term for him that people whispered - _Lord Voldemort._ She knew that he still publicly went by _Tom Riddle._ In any case, he lived in quarters here at Malfoy Manor whilst he fundraised and gathered support for his fledgling political movement. Mrs Malfoy scoffed.

"We've plenty of room in this giant old house," she said firmly. "With only Lucius as our child. There are lovely quarters you can take, adjacent to those of Mr Riddle, and you may stay as long as you like or need. I know you can't go back to that house, child."

Bellatrix shuddered a little at the idea of living in the house where her whole family had died. It was a lovely townhome in Kensington, but, still… perhaps Mrs Malfoy was right. Bellatrix licked her lip and thought about the fact that she'd just come home on the Hogwarts Express the day before. She wouldn't be going back to school until early January. She'd certainly need somewhere to stay between now and then. Then she'd be off to Hogwarts and wouldn't be a bother to the Malfoys. She let out a shaky sigh and mumbled,

"I appreciate the offer, Mrs Malfoy. Thank you."

* * *

"When is the funeral?"

Bellatrix looked away from the window out of which she'd been staring in a parlour on Malfoy Manor's first floor. Walking into the room was a tall figure, cloaked in black, his face looking a bit like he'd been through a fire or some sort of bad spell. This was Tom Riddle - Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix rose slowly, but he gestured for her to sit, and he came and slowly sank into the armchair opposite her. He folded his hands on his lap and said carefully,

"I am deeply sorry to hear of your family. When is the funeral?"

"Tomorrow," Bellatrix answered simply. Then, deciding he probably wanted more information, she added, "Here at the manor, for space. It's… you know, Andromeda had her own friends that'll come, and Cissy the same. It's different when you're burying four compared with one."

"Mmmm." Mr Riddle bowed his head and chewed his lip for a moment, and then he said in a cautious sort of voice, "It was a bizarre mistake. The only way to form that sort of gas from that sort of potion is to put in bat eyes instead of bat's blood. It's… beyond careless. Amateur. But I knew your father, and he was a gifted potioneer. Not a mistake I would have seen him making."

Bellatrix's stomach churned, and her eyes watered. "What, you think he did it on purpose?"

Mr Riddle raised his eyes and shook his head. "No. He was probably distracted by something. I am merely noting how terrifically unexpected something like this is."

"Most people note what a tragedy it is," Bellatrix said back with a bite in her voice, and Mr Riddle sighed and tipped his head.

"That, too, of course."

"You are an unsentimental man, I take it," Bellatrix said, narrowing her eyes, and Mr Riddle raised his brows.

"How many times have you cried since your entire family died, Miss Black?"

"I beg your pardon?" she whispered, and he shrugged.

"Unsentimental creatures are we."

There was quiet then, a strangely comfortable quiet, and Bellatrix stared out the window as Mr Riddle did the same. They just sat there for a long time in the armchairs until at last Bellatrix said gently,

"You won't have to deal with having a next-door neighbour for long, sir. I'm back to school on the fifth of January."

"It's not a problem. We are both at the whim of the Malfoys' hospitality," Mr Riddle pointed out. Then he asked, "What will you do about Christmas?"

Bellatrix blinked quickly, thinking of hot chocolate and Christmas carols and other family traditions. The Malfoys surely had traditions, too, but she couldn't impinge upon them with her presence. She gulped and said helplessly,

"I'll sit in my quarters and listen to the music on the Wireless, I suppose."

"May I propose an idea to lift your spirits in some demonstrable fashion?" asked Tom Riddle, and Bellatrix frowned in confusion at him. He actually looked a little nervous then as he said, "You and I are like two boats at sea. I don't mind the solitude, you understand; I have a course to sail. But you are adrift and alone. So. May I suggest that you buy a small gift for me, and I buy a small gift for you, and we exchange them on Christmas morning so as to feel less like -"

"Two solitary boats?" Bellatrix finished, and Mr Riddle smirked. He nodded, and he added,

"I'll even take my Christmas dinner with you, if you like."

"How am I meant to know what sort of gift you'd enjoy?" Bellatrix asked, knitting her hands in her lap. "I don't know you."

He let out a heavy sigh, as though he were contemplating something, and he finally said,

"Well. I like the Dark Arts. I like history. Antiques. I'm intrigued by genealogy, lore, legend. What may be true, what we wish were true. Does that help?"

For the first time in a few days, Bellatrix felt the corners of her lips curl up. He seemed to notice, raising his eyebrows and tipping his head as she smiled just a little bit. Bellatrix's smile only grew at that, and she demurely bowed her head and felt her cheeks flush.

"So," she mumbled, "Borgin and Burkes might be a good place to look."

"They know me well there," Mr Riddle said cryptically, and when Bellatrix raised her eyes to him, he told her simply, "I used to work there."

Bellatrix nodded. "And did you enjoy it?"  
He smiled, the edge of his mouth pulling strangely, the tissue looking burned and stretched. "I made some fond memories there."

"You are very good at distracting me from thinking about what's happened," Bellatrix noted, and his smile faded a little as he said almost gently,

"I'll be there tomorrow. That's not distracting, is it? Sorry."

He rose from his chair, and as he started to go from the room, he asked,

"So, will you take me up on my Christmas offer?"

"Yes," said Bellatrix. "Thank you, Mr Riddle."

"Tom," he said, looking uncomfortable. Then suddenly, on something of a whim, Bellatrix blurted,

"And the other name?"

His lips went into a line, and he said simply,

"That name is not for speaking. But you might think it, and I would like it if you did."

Bellatrix shut her eyes and imagined the words. _Lord Voldemort._ She opened her eyes to see him studying her very seriously, and then her throat felt awfully tight. She licked her lip and nodded crisply.

"Thank you, Tom."

* * *

It was pouring rain, because of course it was. And the rain was frigid, naturally. Bellatrix stood in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor, walking slowly past the open caskets of her family, and the rain thudded outside the windows, lashing the glass panes.

Narcissa was so tiny in her dark silver casket, her blonde hair braided in a bun atop her head. She looked like she was sleeping in the black velvet gown they'd chosen for her. Andromeda looked less peaceful, somehow, seeming restless even in death. Her auburn hair was long and loose, which unsettled Bellatrix for some reason. Her mother looked stern and angry, her lips pursed and her eyes clenched tightly. And her father's eyebrows were raised, as though in shock. Bellatrix sighed and moved away from the caskets, across the ballroom to the other side of the walls, and she stood near the great fireplace, staring out the windows at the rain.

"My dear?"

Jessamyn Malfoy had approached, holding a glass mug of what appeared to be cider for Bellatrix. She lowered her voice and murmured,

"There's Draught of Peace in it for you, darling."

"Oh. That's kind of you…" Bellatrix didn't have the heart to turn the drink down. Not today. If the worst thing that happened was she was extra calm, then so be it. She sipped at the hot cider, gulping it down until it was gone, and Mrs Malfoy smiled sadly as she took the mug back and slowly walked away. The Draught of Peace began to settle into Bellatrix's veins then. She suddenly didn't mind being here. She suddenly wasn't haunted by the burn of the gas in her throat, the sound of her own voice screaming _Finestra_ to blast out the conservatory windows for air. She suddenly was ready to greet the mourners.

And they did come. Streams of them. Friends of her parents, of her sisters. One after another, they told Bellatrix how very sorry they were, how incredibly shocked they were.

"I just can't believe it. The entire family," gasped Mrs Mulciber. "What a miracle that you survived, my dear."

"Such a tragedy," lamented Armando Dippet, the retired headmaster of Hogwarts, "to lose two young souls like that. And for you to lose your sisters _and_ your parents."

Everyone had something kind and very sad to say. Bellatrix just shook one forearm after another and embraced witches until she started to feel the Draught of Peace wearing off a bit. Then Tom Riddle walked up and bowed his head, and Bellatrix felt her stomach and heart flutter oddly.

"Mr Riddle," she acknowledged, and he said darkly,

"My condolences."

"Aren't you going to go on and on about what a tragedy it was?" Bellatrix asked him quietly, and he narrowed his eyes.

"You still haven't cried."

Bellatrix swallowed hard and stared across the room at where the four caskets were lined up. She returned her eyes to Mr Riddle and said as lightly as she could,

"Unsentimental creatures are we."

He smirked just a little bit, and he reached for Bellatrix's hand.

"What an unmitigated tragedy," he said seriously, "for a young witch to lose her entire family in one day. Truly, a shocking and appalling -"

"That'll do," Bellatrix said, staring at where he held his hand in hers. He didn't release her fingers. He said quietly,

"Think of Christmas. I already know what I'm buying you for your gift. And there will be figgy pudding and everything."

"Thank you, Mr Riddle." Suddenly Bellatrix's eyes welled very heavily, and tears came up and boiled over her eyes, and she said thickly, "Look what you've made me do."

They both raised their eyes, and he finally released her hand as he mumbled,

"Now for _that_ , I will not apologise. Good day, Miss Black."

He walked away, leaving Bellatrix with tears streaming down her cheeks as the Lestrange family walked up to give their condolences.

 **Author's Note: Obviously this fic is highly AU. I just couldn't stay away from Bellamort allllllll the way until the 16th. Hopefully I can get this one finished before** _ **Fantastic Beasts**_ **comes out; otherwise, I'll be pulling double duty. This plot bunny just decided to burn a hole in my head. I hope you guys like this one. Thanks for reading; please do REVIEW! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

"Bellatrix, dear, are you sure you want to go shopping on your own?" asked Mrs Malfoy worriedly, and Bellatrix sighed as she adjusted her heavy winter cloak around herself.

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy. Thank you. I… it's good for me to get out, I think. To think of something other than what's happened. Being round all the Christmas decorations might put me in a good cheer, too. So."

"But do you really want to go alone?" Mrs Malfoy seemed disbelieving as she wrung her hands in the dining room where the grand fireplace was. Bellatrix huffed a breath.

"I really would like to go alone, Mrs Malfoy."

Jessamyn Malfoy pinched her lips and nodded. Beside her, Lucius Malfoy stood looking despondent. Bellatrix knew why. He and Narcissa had been two peas in a pod. There had been rumours that they'd marry when they were old enough. They'd spent all their spare time together. Bellatrix knew that it had deeply affected Lucius to see Narcissa dead in her casket the day before. Today, the day after the funeral, he looked drawn and weary, and he seemed to have been crying extensively. _Poor boy_ , Bellatrix thought.

"She thought so very highly of you," Bellatrix said to Lucius, and he slowly looked up. His eyes welled, and Bellatrix nodded, tipping up her chin. "Narcissa spoke of little else. _My Lucius_ , she would call you. _My Lucius and I went to Florean Fortescue's today_ , she would say. You were everything to her."

Lucius dragged a thumb beneath his eye and nodded, and Jessamyn reached for her son's hand, squeezing carefully. Bellatrix pulled her hood up over her curls and murmured,

"I think I'll go now. Thank you for the Floo Powder, Mrs Malfoy."

"Of course, dear," whispered Mrs Malfoy thickly. Bellatrix dug her leather gloved fingers into the elegant glass jar of Floo Powder beside the hearth, and once she had a handful, she stepped into the enormous fireplace, dropped her powder, and shouted clearly,

"Knockturn Alley!"

Bellatrix tried not to gasp then as the cool green flames erupted around her, sucking her backward and down and into the great black ether. She was pinched and grasped through the void until she came sliding out of a fireplace. She hurried to her feet and cleaned herself off as best she could, getting the dust and soot off of her black cloak. When she looked around, she was inside Borgin and Burkes, which was the very shop she wanted to be inside at this very moment. How convenient, she thought.

"Miss Black?" The old man behind the counter, Caractacus Burke, stared in disbelief as Bellatrix came strolling across the floor of his shop. It probably was shocking, Bellatrix thought, that she would be out in public just a few days after her entire family had been found dead with her as the only survivor. She might seem insensitive.

Unsentimental.

Bellatrix gulped and approached the counter where Mr Burke stood, and she said to him,

"I wonder if you could be of assistance, Mr Burke. You see, someone you know well has been of great assistance to me since my family's death, and I should like to thank him with a small Christmas gift. Money is no object."

It truly wasn't, given the massive inheritance Bellatrix had been left with. Mr Burke raised his grey brows behind his spectacles and asked cautiously,

"May I ask who this person is, Miss Black? My sincerest condolences, by the way."

"Thank you. It's Tom Riddle." Bellatrix folded her hands on the counter, and Mr Burke's eyes went wide.

"Tom Riddle?" he repeated. "You need a gift for Tom Riddle?"

"I do." Bellatrix licked her lip. "I have a feeling you know him better than I do and might recommend something he'd enjoy."

"Well, Tom is… Tom is an odd bird," said Mr Burke, almost sounding afraid. "He's brilliant. The most brilliant wizard I'll ever know. But he's not like the rest of us. Still… I have just the thing. I think."

Bellatrix frowned a little, and Mr Burke led her out and around the counter, across the shop, to a dusty case that had all sort of weapons inside. There was an iron mace, a jagged shiny knife, and then Mr Burke pointed a shaking finger to the third piece in the case.

"That. That there." He opened the case with a wave of his wand, and he pulled out the beige-coloured dagger at the end. He held it up for Bellatrix to see, and he said, "This is a dragon-bone knife. They are rare and powerful on their own, but this one… this one is rumoured to have belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself. Tom Riddle had a very keen interest in the Hogwarts Founders and anything that may have belonged to them. He was always asking whether it might be true, a rumour that something had belonged to a Founder. Slytherin in particular. And this dragon-bone knife was sold to me by a collector who swore under Veritaserum that, to the best of his knowledge, it had belonged to Salazar Slytherin."

Bellatrix grinned. "Well, it's a good story, at least. I suppose you want a fortune for it."

"Not from you. Not right now," said Mr Burke seriously. "I'll not take more than twenty Galleons."

That was a remarkable price for a dragon-bone knife, so Bellatrix sighed and opened up her purse, walking back over to the counter. Mr Burke began packaging up the knife in brown paper and a velvet shopping bag, and Bellatrix began counting out twenty-five Galleons on the counter. She took the knife, and Mr Burke reluctantly took the extra money, and then Bellatrix said to him,

"Thank you. You've helped me more than you know, Mr Burke."

He looked very sad then, peering at her over his spectacles, and he shrugged helplessly as he said,

"Happy Christmas, Miss Black."

* * *

"I heard you went to Knockturn Alley all on your own earlier," said a voice, and Bellatrix turned away from the window. He was always finding her staring out windows in parlours, she thought.

"Mr Riddle."

"Tom," he corrected her, and again she found herself thinking and correcting them both, _Lord Voldemort._ She nibbled her lip and informed him,

"I had some Christmas shopping to do. At Borgin and Burkes."

"And did you find what you were looking for?"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. There were many rumours about him. "You're a Legilimens, aren't you?" she asked him. "Why don't you just look into my head and see what I bought you?"

He tipped his head and quirked up his mouth. "Where's the fun in that?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and walked slowly into the room. He came to stand beside Bellatrix, and he informed her,

"You were magnificent at the funeral."

Bellatrix snapped her face to him. "How is one magnificent at a funeral, sir?"

He put his hands in the pockets of his robes and stared out the glass. "You were steady and sure. Even whilst all four of them were in the same room as you. It was enviable, and people noticed. People saw the way that you behaved like the most constant of grown witches. You're going to be just fine. What are you going to do after school?"

Bellatrix's mouth fell open in surprise at his pivot of topic. She shook her head.

"I don't know. I don't want to work for the Ministry."

"No. I didn't, either. That's why I did my due in a shop until I could go train and start my own movement," Mr Riddle smirked. He flicked his eyes toward her and informed her, "Your father was a friend of mine in school and a friend my new movement, too."

"And you want me to take his place?" Bellatrix asked. Mr Riddle sighed, his throat bobbing, and he said,

"I'd like you to take your own place. You seem like the sort of witch to hold her own. Could you ever be obedient, I wonder?"

"Obedient?" Bellatrix was taken aback. Then she whispered in awe, "Lord Voldemort."

He rolled his neck and turned his face to her. He narrowed his eyes, and suddenly she melted a little. She asked quietly,

"What does it mean? To be obedient?"

"Right now? It's all political," he said. "A philosophical movement with me at the head. I demand loyalty. But eventually, we'll make moves."

"Moves," Bellatrix repeated, and she had a sudden vision of two sides battling, large-scale duels happening in fields. Her breath quickened, and she whispered, "I want in."

"Do you?" Mr Riddle nodded. "After school. You join when you leave school."

Bellatrix smiled a bit to herself, and she murmured,

"Well, now I'm all cheery. Sir."

"That's hardly the worst thing, is it?" he asked, and he stared down at her for what felt like a very long moment. Bellatrix took the time to study him, to examine the face that seemed scarred and pulled, the dark eyes, the retreating, greying hair, and suddenly his expression shifted.

"I am not handsome. I am aware," he said a bit harshly, and Bellatrix realised she'd been very obvious in staring at his features. Her little smile vanished, and she gulped and insisted,

"I'm sorry; I -"

"Dark Magic leaves many scars," said Mr Riddle in a low voice. "I was exceptionally good-looking in my youth. I ruined it with magic the likes of which you'll never have to understand."

Bellatrix was curious then, but she just shook her head and insisted, "I'm very sorry for staring."

"You were speaking at length to Rodolphus Lestrange at the funeral," said Mr Riddle suddenly. "You're engaged to marry him, no?"

Bellatrix's heart raced, and she shook her head. "N-No. There was talk about it last year, but nothing formal ever got signed. And now my father's dead, so nothing will ever be formally arranged. I don't think I want to marry him, so…"

"I see."

Bellatrix felt very odd now. She'd been elated to be joining his movement, but then he'd grown sour about her staring at him, and he'd started asking about Rodolphus, and he -

"I apologise," he said softly, and Bellatrix looked up to see him standing with his hands folded in front of him. He shrugged and admitted, "I am, at times, a clumsy conversationalist."

"No." Bellatrix stepped closer to him. She wasn't sure why she did that. She stared more brazenly up at him and said in a steady tone, "I found what I wanted when I was shopping. I didn't even know I wanted it, but now that I've got it, I think it's perfect."

He smiled a little and shrugged.

"Perhaps I ought to add to my gift, then."

"I'm sure yours is fine," she said. Her eyes stung suddenly as she took another step toward him and said quietly, "and on Christmas there will figgy pudding and everything. Won't there? Sir?"

"Yes, there will be," he said, and now he was hovering over her. She had to stare straight up at him, for he was awfully tall, and she was awfully short. She just stared, unapologetic for doing so, but this time she met his eyes. He finally said to her,

"You really were magnificent at the funeral. And people noticed. You'll be magnificent for me, I think."

"I shall try," Bellatrix agreed. Mr Riddle took a deep, slightly shaking breath, and he stepped back and away, walking briskly out of the room.

* * *

"Oh. Goodnight."

Bellatrix looked up from where she had her hand on her doorknob. She saw Tom Riddle - _Lord Voldemort_ \- standing at his quarters next door. After dinner, Bellatrix had read in the library alone for some time whilst Mr Riddle had taken firewhisky with Abraxas Malfoy. He seemed to have had quite a lot; he was swaying just a little where he stood and was very evidently tipsy at best.

"Off to bed?" Bellatrix asked, feeling stupid at once as it was quite clear that was exactly what Mr Riddle was doing. Still, he nodded and gestured toward his door.

"These are my quarters," he said half-jokingly. "It's late. Yes. Bed. You?"  
"Bed." Bellatrix's heart hammered like a war drum in her chest, and she felt like a complete idiot all of a sudden. She couldn't breathe then, for Mr Riddle was approaching her, stumbling a little as he came walking on unsteady legs down the corridor toward her. She twisted her fingers together before her and whispered,

"Oh, help."

Suddenly she imagined her mother, scolding her for lusting after a drunk man twenty-five years her senior. But her mother wasn't here. Lord Voldemort was. Mr Riddle stepped up to Bellatrix and declared just a bit loudly for the circumstances,

"I'm drunk."

"I see," Bellatrix nodded, her breath coming in quick pants. Mr Riddle touched his fingers to his forehead and seemed resigned as he declared more quietly,

"If I don't do this now, I'll regret not doing it, and I won't do it if I'm not drunk, so…"

Bellatrix frowned in confusion until he took her face in his hands and whispered,

"I'm going to kiss you."

"You are?" Bellatrix squeaked, and he answered by doing it. He bent and pressed his lips to hers, just one hard kiss, and then he ripped himself away from her and mumbled over his shoulder,

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Bellatrix answered, watching as he shoved the door to his chambers open and stumbled inside, slamming the door shut behind him. She stood in the corridor for five minutes, confused and shocked, before she finally made her way into her own sitting room.

 **Author's Note: Oh, my. How's he going to feel about that kiss when he's sober? And what did he get her for Christmas? And poor Lucius. I know this story has super low readership, so I am extremely grateful for each and every REVIEW! Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

Bellatrix awoke to find that it had snowed, and, more significantly, the snow had stuck. This was particularly unusual weather for Wiltshire, so Bellatrix sprang out of bed and dressed quickly, determined to get out into the snow before it inevitably melted away.

As she buttoned up her black velvet dress, the first thought that occurred to her was to go find Andy and Cissy and get them to come look at the snow.

Then Bellatrix froze, her fingers halfway through shoving a velvet button through a hole, and she realised that Narcissa had suffocated in her bedroom, scrambling at her dresser for purchase. Andromeda had hit her head on her bedpost stumbling toward the door.

Her sisters were dead.

Bellatrix's lips went dry as she finished buttoning up her dress. Suddenly the snow wasn't very exciting anymore. She slid her feet into black boots and made her way into her bathroom to clean her teeth. Once she was ready for the day, she made her way out into the corridor, and a portrait across the way, a pretty young woman cradling a sleeping newborn, hissed,

"Well? What are you going to do about it?"

"Do about what?" Bellatrix asked, still feeling numb about Narcissa and Andromeda. Then she remembered, with a jolt, the way that _he_ had taken her face in his hands and held her and kissed her and then walked away. She stared at the portrait, who bounced her sleeping baby a little and raised her eyebrows before asking,

"How drunk was he?"

"Pretty drunk," Bellatrix said sadly. "I reckon he won't speak of it. Pretend it didn't happen."

"Well. We all saw," smirked the portrait, and Bellatrix sighed, feeling a little sick. She nodded and turned to walk away. She stopped when she saw Lucius Malfoy walking toward her, and she noticed that there were tears worming their way silently down Lucius' pale cheeks. He finally looked up and stopped, about five paces away.

"Bellatrix," he acknowledged. "I hope you're comfortable here."

"You going to be all right going back to school, Lucius?" asked Bellatrix, and he scoffed gently.

"Ought I not be asking that of you?"

"School will be a happy distraction, I think," Bellatrix said, but Lucius shook his head.

"She was everywhere at school for me," he said. "We took our meals together in the Great Hall. We studied together in the library. We walked together in the Viaduct. She will be like a ghost to me. I wish she were a ghost. Then at least I could speak with her."

"They all crossed over," Bellatrix mumbled. "They were all at some level of peace when they died."

"I will be empty without Cissy," Lucius declared. "I do not suppose I shall ever marry."

"You're much too young to go making declarations like that, Lucius," Bellatrix told him. "Mourn her, and then live."

"How did you survive?" He sounded almost angry, but Bellatrix stayed calm as she stared into his pale blue eyes and reminded him,

"I was farthest from where my father was working; I was in the conservatory. At the very first hint of the burn in my throat and lungs, I blew out all the conservatory windows for fresh air. Then I ran out the door and knelt on the grass in the garden, breathing out the bad gas. I put a fresh air bubble around myself and went inside and found them all."

"I'm very sorry for you," Lucius said bitterly, "and also so very glad that you happened to be where you were when you were there. It is most unfortunate that Cissy and Andy were trapped in their bedrooms."

"Yes, it is," Bellatrix said sincerely. She sighed. "See you, Lucius."

"See you." His voice was hoarse as he nodded and walked past Bellatrix. She pursed her lips and dashed down the corridor, escaping into a coral-coloured parlour and slamming the door shut. She curled up into an armchair and finally let herself cry.

She hadn't done this since she'd found her father toppled over beside his cauldron, since she'd found her mother and the House-Elf slumped in the library, since she'd found her sisters in their bedrooms. She hadn't cried like this since she'd felt the tickling burn of acidic gas in her throat and immediately, instinctively blasted out windows for air. She hadn't sobbed like this since they'd put her family in the ground and murmured readings about grief and life and death. _Tragedy_ , everyone had said, and through it all Bellatrix had not cried like this.

She cried now.

She wasn't even sure what she was crying for. She didn't necessarily miss her mother and father. Not yet, anyway. She wasn't _sad_. It was more that she was overwhelmed by the gravity of what had happened, and it was finally sinking in.

"Go away," she snarled at the sound of the parlour door opening and closing, but someone determinedly stepped into the room, and then Tom Riddle - _Lord Voldemort_ \- said quietly,

"So much for Unsentimental."

"Please," she begged him, unsure of what she was asking for. Her back heaved arrhythmically, and as she slowly sat up, she searched his dark eyes. He just nodded, and she slowly stopped crying. She wiped her tears away, knowing her face was red and splotchy and swollen. He came to sit in the chair opposite her, and he noted,

"I was wondering when you'd have a good cry."

"I'm weak," she complained. "Death is nothing. It comes for everyone."

"It doesn't have to," Mr Riddle shrugged, and though Bellatrix was confused, she nodded. He licked his bottom lip and folded his hands in his lap. "I should like to apologise."

She didn't have to ask for what. She knew full well for what. She gulped and tried to lighten the mood by informing him,

"The painting across from my quarters was very nosy about the entire event."

"Hmmm." He chewed his lip hard. "It was silly and stupid of me. Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," Bellatrix insisted. She shut her eyes, remembering the way he'd pressed his mouth hard against hers, and she heard herself tell him, "I didn't mind it."

"Bellatrix." His voice was stern then, and when she opened her eyes, he shook his head and insisted, "That is a road neither of us can go down."

 _Why not?_ she wanted to demand of him, but instead she nodded. Obedience. She had promised him obedience. He seemed to notice. He drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair, and he asked Bellatrix,

"Will you go into battle for me someday?"

She smiled just a little, her mood suddenly lifted by that idea. Battle. Duels in fields with enemies. Casting curses at blood traitors and idiots, and -

"Yes," she said at once. "Yes, I will gladly go into battle for you. Sir."

He smirked a little and nodded. "You're right. I am a Legilimens. And I can see in your mind the fantasies of what you want to do. Dark little creature, Unsentimental or not."

"I've always been Dark, I think," Bellatrix shrugged. "It's not a bad thing, is it?"

"It's the very best thing," he replied. His nostrils flared, and he turned to look out the window. "Maybe I'm not so sorry."

For kissing her? Bellatrix smiled shyly and then remembered that right now she was red and blotched and puffy from crying. She was probably hideous.

"Hardly," said Mr Riddle, and he continued looking out the window. Bellatrix startled at the way he'd been in her mind, but then she registered that he'd told her she wasn't ugly after crying. She wanted to kiss him again, she thought. She wanted him to take her face in his hands again. She wanted to taste him.

"Bellatrix." His eyes shut, and his fingers tightened around the arms of the chair. Bellatrix rose and approached his chair, standing between his legs, and she was so short that she was just barely taller than his head and face sitting down. He turned his face toward her, and Bellatrix bravely suggested,

"If you're not sorry, and I'm not sorry, then perhaps…"

"Perhaps _what?_ " Mr Riddle snapped, and Bellatrix licked her bottom lip.

"Perhaps it wasn't silly and stupid."

"You're going back to school," he reminded her.

"Fond memories, then," she shrugged. He narrowed his eyes.

"You're going to serve me."

"Fond memories until I serve you, then."

He flew to his feet at last, sending Bellatrix stumbling backward, and he caught her shoulders to keep her from falling. Suddenly he'd snared her up in his arms. He had one arm around the small of her back, and the other around her shoulders, and he bent far down to reach Bellatrix. He kissed her, but this time he was so much more careful than his drunken self had been the night before. His lips searched hers, suckling and pushing. His tongue licked her bottom lip and then pressed gently inside. He sucked on her tongue for a moment, then dragged his own tongue along the roof of her mouth. All the while, one of his hands coursed around the small of Bellatrix's back, and the other hand dragged between her shoulder blades. Finally, he released her, and Bellatrix staggered backward, thinking to herself that she'd had absolutely no idea a kiss could be anything like _that_.

"Well," Mr Riddle sighed, "For that I will not apologise. I find myself hopelessly unapologetic about that."

He bent and kissed Bellatrix's forehead, and he murmured,

"I am glad you got your cry in, and I am glad you will serve me in battle. Good day, Miss Black."

Then he walked out of the parlour, leaving the door ajar behind him.

* * *

On Christmas morning, Bellatrix woke to the sound of knocking on the door that led from her sitting room to the corridor. She blinked and leaped from her bed, dragging on her velvet dressing gown and rushing over to the door. When she opened it, there was a note on the ground. She bent and picked it up, opening the folded parchment. She raised her eyes to see a very amused-looking painting across the way, so she had an idea who the note was from.

 _Bellatrix,_

 _Happy Christmas. Please join me in my sitting room for gifts and drinking chocolate when you are dressed._

 _Lord Voldemort_

Bellatrix noticed the way he'd signed the note. Not Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort. She shut her eyes and pulled the note close as she imagined Stupefying someone or worse in a battle, fighting for him against whatever enemies made themselves known. She had dreamed of it the night before, of fighting for him, and they had been very good dreams.

Bellatrix dressed in a black raw silk dress with side-button boots, and she styled her curls half-back. She stared into the mirror, touched at the glass, and said morosely,

"Happy Christmas, Mum. Dad. Andy. Cissy."

But that was all the sentiment she could spare them. Today was a holiday of celebration and merriment, and damnation, she was going to be merry. She picked up Mr Riddle's silver-wrapped gift, and she walked down the corridor to his quarters. She was nervous and licked anxiously at her lip as she raised her fist to knock at his door. He had to have been waiting nearby the door, she reckoned, for he answered very promptly. He was in deep green velvet today, looking resplendent and even festive. Bellatrix grinned and him and said jovially,

"Happy Christmas, sir."

"Happy Christmas, Bellatrix." He gestured for her to come inside, and as he shut the door, he told her, "As my movement grows, I mean to host grand Christmas parties like the Malfoys do. Christmas will become a great time of unity, for us all to gather in celebration of the purity of the wizarding community at a festive time."

"How perfectly beautiful," Bellatrix told him, looking around his sitting room. It was much like hers, with sturdy, elegant furniture, but his was appointed in shades of brown. The door to his bedroom and bathroom was closed. Bellatrix felt her heart accelerate, and she stared at him as he approached.

"Tell me more," she begged. "Tell me more of what it will be like when the movement grows."

He smirked and seemed happy. "We'll intimidate Mudbloods," he said. "We'll topple the Ministry from the inside out. We'll battle our enemies. We'll institute new policies to eradicate the Mudblood threat from the wizarding world and promote purity."

"And you'll be at the head of all this," Bellatrix affirmed breathlessly. "Lord… _him_. You. You'll be in charge."

"Yes." He whispered the word. He was very near now. He loomed over her and stared down at her. "And you'll obey. Won't you?"

"Yes." She nodded and held out his silver gift. "Happy Christmas, sir."

He snapped his eyes from hers down to the present. He took it and gave her a crooked smile, his marled flesh pulling oddly when he quirked up half his mouth. He gestured to the plush brown velvet sofa, and when he and Bellatrix sat, he reached into his robes and pulled out a very small, square box. They both sat, and Mr Riddle asked,

"Who goes first?"

"You open first," Bellatrix insisted. "I'm nervous you'll hate it."

"I doubt that," he murmured, but he set down his small box, which made Bellatrix very curious, and he picked up the silver package from Bellatrix. He unwrapped it and Vanished the wrapping paper with no wand or incantation. Bellatrix marveled at the powerful magic, but he seemed to think nothing of it. He opened the lid of the box, and when he pulled out the dagger inside, he scoffed in wonder.

"Is this dragon-bone?" He stared, wide-eyed, at Bellatrix. She smiled broadly at him.

"The seller swore under Veritaserum that, at least as far as he knew, it once belonged to none other than Salazar Slytherin."

Mr Riddle's eyebrows flew up, and he turned the dagger over and over in his hands, studying it. Bellatrix stammered,

"It's… I'm sure… You know, it's probably just a story, but it _could be_ , so I thought you might -"

"This is marvelous, Bellatrix. Thank you very kindly." He reached into his robes and tucked the dagger away somewhere Bellatrix couldn't see, and his face was very serious as he nodded. "Thank you."

She grinned. He liked it. He actually liked it. She nodded as he Vanished the box it had come in, and then she carefully unwrapped the small square box he'd set down. She opened the box and pulled out a smaller velvet clamshell, and she realised he'd gotten her some sort of jewellery. Bellatrix was confused until she opened the clamshell and saw a glittering silver locket with a beautiful round emerald on its rectangular face. She gasped and carefully pulled the locket out of the clamshell.

When she opened the locket, she realised it had been enchanted. There were more than two sides in its interior. In fact, it flipped like a book to reveal a total of four portraits, all of them moving magical portraits. One was of Cygnus Black III, smiling with his merry mustache. One was of Druella, smiling as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. One was of Andromeda, putting her hands on her hips and grinning, and one was of Narcissa, waving frantically to the camera.

Bellatrix's eyes were heavy and wet as she flipped back and forth between the portraits. Her throat felt tight. She carefully put the locket on and mumbled,

"How could I ever thank you?"

"Promise you'll be there when the movement grows," he replied, and she raised her eyes and nodded.

"I promise."

She clutched the locket in her hand and edged toward him on the sofa, pushing her face toward his as she murmured,

"Happy Christmas, sir."

"Happy Christmas, Bellatrix," he said back, and this time when he kissed her, he didn't stop.

 **Author's Note: So he's Fluffy!Voldemort, but he's also FocusedOnTheMovement!Voldemort. And now that kissing seems to be a very comfortable activity for these two, what comes next? After all, someone's got a New Year's Eve birthday coming up before someone else goes back to school!**

 **Thank you SO MUCH for the feedback on this story. I realize not many people are reading, so I am especially grateful for each and every review!**


	4. Chapter 4

"No. I'll hear no more about it. The party is cancelled."

"Please, Mrs Malfoy!" Bellatrix threw her hands up at the dinner table. "I couldn't live with myself knowing I was the reason you'd cancelled the annual Malfoy New Year's Eve party."

"We've just had our Christmas party," Abraxas Malfoy pointed out, for the grand event had occurred just two days before the Black family tragedy. "There's no need for two parties in one month."

"But you always have both parties!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "The entire Pureblood community looks to the Malfoy family for celebration this time of year."

"It doesn't feel appropriate to host a raucous drinking party two weeks after… after…" Jessamyn Malfoy pinched her lips. Bellatrix sighed and folded her hands on the table.

"Perhaps I am an unsentimental creature, Mrs Malfoy, but I prefer to think of myself as practical. I think that part of the grieving process is learning how to continue living once the lost ones are gone. Wallowing in sorrow forever does no one any good. And I need the distraction. Really, I do. I beg you, host the party. Just like always."

Mrs Malfoy frowned deeply but finally looked to Abraxas and then Lucius. She touched at her perfect blonde bun and said at last,

"We'll host the party. In honour of the Black family, toasting to their memory and drinking to the idea that their remaining daughter has a healthy and prosperous 1969. Agreed, Abraxas?"

"That seems like a fair compromise," Abraxas Malfoy nodded, picking up his knife and fork. Further down the table, Tom Riddle, who had been sitting in silence during the entire conversation, sipped at his wine and then said quietly,

"I think it appropriate that normalcy be maintained even in the face of loss. As our movement grows, loss will be an inevitable factor. We can not dissolve into the depths of mourning for months at a time whenever family members or even allies are lost."

The Malfoys looked amazed by this revelation, but Bellatrix felt her heart speed up. War. He was talking about war. She smiled a little where she sat, turning to him and lifting her glass of wine to her lips.

"And shall we have birthday cake, sir?" asked Abraxas Malfoy suddenly, and Bellatrix turned her gaze, confused. Tom Riddle huffed a breath and confessed,

"I was hoping to keep that an old school factoid, Abraxas."

Mr Malfoy smirked and chewed a bite of steak. When he swallowed, he said, "No birthday cake at the New Year's Eve party, then. Message received."

"Wait." Bellatrix snapped her face to Mr Riddle. "Your birthday is New Year's Eve?"

He rolled his eyes so hard it looked like the perpetually bloodshot eyeballs would roll right back into his skull. Mr Riddle touched at his eyebrows and said begrudgingly,

"Yes, Miss Black. Thanks so very much, Abraxas."

"But there are only three days until New Year's Eve!" Bellatrix complained. "I've hardly any shopping time left!"

"Shopping time!" Jessamyn Malfoy seemed very amused, giggling a little where she sat. "Tom, you've managed to convince the girl to buy you gifts already?"

"Of course not," Mr Riddle said seriously. He turned to Bellatrix and shook his head. "No gift required."

Bellatrix's stomach churned with embarrassment. She smiled shyly and said in a voice playful enough to cover her faux pas,

"I just wanted an excuse to go shopping."

Mrs Malfoy laughed again, and Bellatrix forced a choked little laugh as she cut into her steak. Further down the table, Mr Riddle just stared at his plate.

* * *

Bellatrix opened her door from her quarters to the corridor, and she let out a shaking breath.

"My goodness!" exclaimed the portrait of the young mother on the opposite wall. Bellatrix looked up.

"Too much?" she asked, and the young witch in the painting raised her auburn brows.

"You're hardly dressed, my dear," she fretted. Bellatrix looked down at herself. She'd worn the shortest dress she owned, one that reached mid-thigh and was made of shiny, watery black silk with billowing long sleeves. Bellatrix had worn knee-high, heeled leather boots, along with her silver locket from Mr Riddle. She'd lined her eyes thickly with black kohl and had worn iridescent pale pink lipstick, and she'd tied her hair into a chignon at the nape of her neck. She stared up at the portrait on the wall and protested,

"It's a New Year's Eve party. I'm dressed enough."

"Well. Enjoy yourself, then," said the young mother in the painting. Bellatrix huffed and walked off, stalking down the corridor and hearing swing music coming from the ballroom downstairs. She pattered down the winding stone stairs and walked into the Malfoys' ballroom, and the moment she did, two dozen faces turned to stare at her. Bellatrix's cheeks went hot. She reached up to hold her silver locket and walked over to the bar, which was being tended by a somewhat bland and unskilled Mulciber boy.

"Lavender Slip-Up, please," she requested, and the boy nodded as he poured gin, tonic, and lavender syrup into a glass. As he passed it over, the pimple-faced boy said carefully,

"Sorry about your family."

"Thanks." Bellatrix took the drink and started slurping it down at once, walking away and finishing it in four enormous gulps. Soon she was standing holding an empty glass full of ice cubes, and she realised just how drunk she was going to get tonight.

"Welcome! Welcome! May I have your attention, please?"

The projected swing music stopped playing, and Abraxas Malfoy's voice came resonating through the ballroom. Everyone went silent. Bellatrix hustled up to the bar to get another Lavender Slip-Up, thinking Mr Malfoy was going to make a toast and she wouldn't have a drink. She went back out to the centre of the room with her drink as everyone settled, and Mr Malfoy said,

"Welcome to this New Year's Eve. We would be terribly remiss on this evening not to pay solemn homage to the Black family, whom we have all lost. Let us all raise a glass in their memory. Tonight belongs to them."

"To the Black family!" cried a voice, and Bellatrix blinked a few times as she drank deeply from her Lavender Slip-Up. She listened then as Mr Malfoy said,

"And as we approach midnight, and a new year, I should like to propose that we all drink to the health and happiness of the remaining member of the Black family. Bellatrix, may your 1969 be prosperous and happy. We all wish you nothing but success and contentment. To Bellatrix Black!"

Her face went warm then as everyone cried out and drank to her. She sipped from her drink and nodded her thanks. Then the room went silent, and Bellatrix decided to speak.

"My family would want us to keep on living," she called out. "So, please. Celebrate this holiday. Thank you all for the kind words."

Abraxas Malfoy nodded and started the music back up, and gradually the party fell back into rhythm. Bellatrix pinched her lips and kept sipping at her drink. A pair of Slytherin girls from school approached her, and she gripped her glass tightly as she forced a little smile. A pretty brunette girl with a face full of freckles was the bravest and the first to speak.

"How very brave of you to come to a party so soon after the tragedy, Bellatrix," said Ligeia Travers. Bellatrix frowned and insisted,

"It's a good distraction for me." She drank more deeply from her glass, and the second girl, a short, plump blonde called Ianthe Rowle, amended for her friend,

"I think Ligeia just means that we're all so very impressed by how well you're handling this. If it were us, we'd be in pieces, and you're so strong."

"Well, thanks, Ianthe," Bellatrix nodded, taking another sip. She was starting to feel the drinks now, she thought. She was almost finished with this one. Ligeia Travers glanced behind Bellatrix and announced,

"Tom Riddle keeps staring at you. He's talking with Mr Avery and Mr Nott, but he's looking over here over and over again."

"Oh. He's my neighbour here," Bellatrix said dismissively. Ligeia's eyebrows went up, and Ianthe laughed a little.

"Friendly neighbours?" she joked, but Bellatrix was serious as she insisted,

"He's been a great mentor to me since my family died. He's probably just worried whether I'm holding up all right."

"Oh. How kind of him," said Ianthe, and Ligeia sighed as she said,

"I'm going to get a drink. Good to see you, Bellatrix. I'm sorry again for what's happened to you."

Bellatrix finished her drink and set her glass down on the tray of the passing House-Elf. She nodded and told the girls,

"See you back at school, then."

"Right. See you on the Hogwarts Express," Ianthe smiled, and she walked off with Ligeia. Bellatrix was left standing alone, watching as people danced to the Amplified swing music and milled and talked. Suddenly a voice behind her asked,

"Another Lavender Slip-Up?"

Bellatrix turned around to see Tom Riddle standing before her, a firewhisky in one hand and a purple drink in the other. She grinned at him and gratefully took the drink.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Happy birthday."

"Hush," he scolded. "Don't say that so loud."

She smirked up at him, and he asked her,

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," she promised. She reached up and held her locket, and he nodded. Bellatrix thought over the last week since Christmas. They'd kissed and kissed on his sofa that day. They'd kissed every day since. It had never gone beyond kissing, but the kisses had become deeper, more sure, more passionate. Every night, Bellatrix had been tempted to go next door and ask him to go into his bedroom, to take it further. She wanted to escalate things. Did he? She couldn't tell.

Now she sipped at her third drink and stared at him, and he just stared back as the music blared behind him. He opened his mouth and seemed like he was about to say something, and then a voice from beside Bellatrix said over the cacophony,

"Bellatrix! Any chance you're in the mood for dancing?"

She snapped her head to the side to see Rodolphus Lestrange, who was short and squat with acne and messy black hair, standing beside her. He knitted his hands nervously, and Bellatrix's mouth fell open. How could she say no to him right now? She looked helplessly at Mr Riddle, who raised his eyebrows and held out a hand.

"I'll hold your drink," he said, and Bellatrix reluctantly gave over her Lavender Slip-Up. _I'll be back_ , she wanted to promise him. Then she suddenly took her drink, snatching it, and she gulped it down quickly. She took the empty glass with her and murmured to Mr Riddle,

"I'll get rid of it."

He just nodded and said lightly,

"I've got a few people to see. Enjoy yourself."

"Yes." Her stomach ached. She scowled deeply as she and Rodolphus walked up to the bar to get rid of her empty glass. She shouted to Rodolphus, "Want some firewhisky?"

"Bellatrix, you're going to be awfully drunk," he warned her, but Bellatrix defiantly passed her empty glass to the Mulciber boy and ordered herself a tumbler of firewhisky. Then she stood there at the bar and drank it down in four gulps, feeling profoundly ill all of a sudden, and Rodolphus asked her,

"Perhaps you don't feel like dancing, after all?"  
"It's fine." Bellatrix slammed her glass down on the bar and stumbled with Rodolphus toward the dance floor. She was a mess, she thought, and people would notice. She wasn't magnificent here like she'd been at the funeral.

On the dance floor, she rocked and swayed with Rodolphus, and within a few minutes, everything was a total blur. The candelabras that had been charmed to shine blue and pink and green seemed to arc and trail across the air. The music was echoing in her mind. Rodolphus' hands were warm on her. She was dizzy as she moved. Finally the song ended, and Rodolphus told her,

"Thanks for dancing with me, Bellatrix. Do you want to keep dancing?"

"I dunno if I can," she admitted, for she was unsteady in her heels now.

"Mr Lestrange?" said a distant voice, and finally Bellatrix recognised it as Mr Riddle's. She turned to see him standing there, so tall, and he said to Rodolphus,

"If you'll allow me to look after her from here."

"Yes, of course, sir," said Rodolphus nervously. He seemed more than willing to pass over care of the drunken Bellatrix to a far more steady adult. Once Rodolphus stepped away, Bellatrix said up to Mr Riddle in a blurry voice,

"Did you come to dance with me?"

"No. I came to take you back to your rooms," he said rather sternly. "If you stay, you're going to make a fool of yourself or get sick or injured. You had four drinks in an hour. I think your party is over."

She wanted to argue with him, but he'd told her to obey him. She was going to follow him. She was going to be part of his movement. She had to do what he said. So she nodded and asked,

"May I walk out on your arm to keep me steady?"

"Of course," he nodded. He extended his arm, and Bellatrix wrapped her hand up around his forearm. She ignored the stares of her fellow Slytherins and the other party guests as she stumbled badly, led out of the ballroom by the constant and proud Tom Riddle. When they were out in the corridor, she mumbled,

"I have no idea how I'm going… going to climb stairs… in heels right now."

Without another word, he brought one arm under her legs and swept her off the ground, making her squeal with surprise as he curled her up into his arms. He cradled her as he hurried over to the winding stone staircase, and as he climbed, Bellatrix mused,

"You're so strong. Happy birthday. Can I say it now?"

"Yes, you can say it now," he replied. Bellatrix reached up to hold his marled face in her palm, and she whispered again,

"Happy birthday. I never did go shopping. Wasn't sure I was meant to."

"I don't need presents," he said as he walked down to the upstairs corridor. He passed his own quarters, and then Bellatrix asked,

"Are you angry with me that I got drunk?"

"No, I'm not angry." Mr Riddle walked up to Bellatrix's chambers and set her down.

"Is she all right?" asked the painting behind them, the mother with the baby, and Bellatrix mumbled,

"I'm fine."

"You'll see yourself inside all right?" Mr Riddle asked, but Bellatrix stared up at him, bleary-eyed, and shrugged helplessly. Why wouldn't he take things further? Why only kisses?He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his crooked nose as he said,

"I could never do anything to you now, Bellatrix; you're utterly drunk. It'd be… it isn't the right way, you understand."

"And you must get back to the party," she murmured, opening her door and starting to walk inside. "Thank you for the help."

He followed her into the sitting room.

"People would notice if I were missing with you from the party for too long," he pointed out. "It wouldn't take a genius to figure out what was -"

"I want you," Bellatrix blurted, and Mr Riddle's eyes went wide. He cleared his throat and said quietly,

"When you're sober."

"I leave for school in just a few days," Bellatrix pointed out. "We're running out of time."

His chest heaved quickly, and he asked her carefully,

"Would you be opposed to me unlocking your door and coming in after the party? When you've had some time to… to sober up?"

"No," Bellatrix whispered. "I would not be opposed."

"Very well, then," he nodded, turning to go. "I should get back down there now."

"Sir," called Bellatrix, and he whirled over his shoulder. She swayed where she stood and told him, "Happy birthday."

* * *

When she woke in the morning, she wasn't alone.

He was lying in the bed beside her, sleeping on his back, wearing a black tunic and black leggings, and Bellatrix gasped softly as she sat up. She felt positively naked all of a sudden in her thin white nightgown. She reached for her wand and Scoured her mouth, for she had a desire to kiss him when he woke, and when she set her wand down, he stirred.

"Mmm." His eyes blinked open, and he noted in a hoarse voice, "I haven't been Hexed yet."

"Hexed?" asked Bellatrix, her own voice a low growl. Mr Riddle turned his face to look at her, and he smirked.

"Most witches who wake with a wizard twenty-five years their elder beside them in their bed, especially wizards with faces like mine, would be inclined to Hex that wizard. Or worse."

"I am disinclined to Hex you," Bellatrix laughed softly. Then, touching at Mr Riddle's chest, she asked him, "What did people say about me leaving the party?"

"They all understood," he said. "Felt sorry for you. Thought you'd been drinking because of your family. No one's angry or judgmental. Don't worry over it."

"And who did you kiss at midnight?" Bellatrix asked, staring right into his eyes. He dragged his fingers over his mouth, and she realised he was wandlessly Scouring himself.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, and her heart sped up a little. She gulped. The thought of him kissing someone else did make her feel a bit ill… or maybe that was hold over from the liquor. He reached up to brush his knuckles over her cheek, and he informed her,

"I didn't kiss anyone. I'd like to kiss you right now, though."

Bellatrix bent down and began to press her lips to his, eventually incorporating her tongue in a dance with his own. Soon enough their mouths were locked together, and Bellatrix started to feel a familiar wet flush of want between her legs. She pulled her mouth from his and whispered,

"I want you."

"You're a virgin." He rolled them over until she was on her back, and he sat up and started stripping off his black tunic. Bellatrix felt her face flush, and she admitted,

"I am a virgin. What of it?"

"It'll hurt a little. The first time," he told her, and Bellatrix frowned in confusion. She swallowed hard and slithered out of her nightgown, shoving down her cotton knickers, and then Mr Riddle noted in a low voice,

"You… are naked."

"Sorry." Bellatrix licked her lip anxiously, but he pulled the blankets back and began to study her in a way that made her cheeks flush with fire. He squeezed carefully at her small breasts, one at a time. He dragged his thumbs over her peaked nipples. He slid his fingers around her flat stomach. And then he asked her meaningfully,

"Shall I touch you until you come?"

"What?" Bellatrix felt surprise go through her until her ears rang. She gulped hard and finally just nodded. Mr Riddle lay back down beside her and arranged them until they lay like spoons cradled together, with Bellatrix before him. He reached around her and arranged her leg carefully, and then his fingers went to the nub where she always touched herself to drive herself mad.

Bellatrix gasped as his lips touched beneath her ear, as he started to kiss her neck, and he moved his tongue and lips in tandem with the fingers and thumb that he pulsed on the folds and clit below. She moaned at the feel of it, at the delightful way he was caressing her. After awhile, pleasure started to build in her core, a coiling sense of everything being right. She threw her head back, and he caught her mouth in a kiss. Her back arched, and he pressed harder with his hand as he stroked and twisted and curled and pushed.

"Yes." Bellatrix tore her mouth from his. "I'm going to…"

"Do it." Mr Riddle's erection dug hard into the small of Bellatrix's back through his trousers, and she suddenly lost herself. She gasped for air like she was drowning underwater, like she was in some sort of vacuum. She felt herself clenching around him, and for some reason that sensation only aroused her further and didn't serve to embarrass her. She wanted him. She wanted him badly.

"Oh, please show it to me," she heard herself whine. His cock, she meant, and he seemed to understand. She rolled slowly from one side to the other until she was facing him, and she watched him shove his trousers down and push them off his legs, kicking them away and revealing a bit of the male anatomy Bellatrix had never seen in person before.

She had no point of reference, but his seemed awfully big. Thick and throbbing with a purplish tip. It looked like some sort of sea creature, though Bellatrix was drawn to it like a moth to flame. She reached out and tentatively wrapped her fingers around the shaft of it, and Mr Riddle tipped his head back, whispering,

"Oh, I don't know if I can cope with a massage today."

"Why?" Bellatrix pulled her hand away, feeling self-conscious, and he replied,

"Because I'm already staving it off."

"Staving what off?" Bellatrix felt clueless and idiotic, but Mr Riddle was patient as he informed her slowly,

"It was very arousing for me, touching you like that. And it's been… a _very_ long time for me. So I'm already close, you understand."

"Oh." Bellatrix lay on her back and spread her legs, and she whispered, "Well, why don't you go ahead and do it, then?"

He laughed gently and pulled himself up over her, and he frowned. He put his hand to her lower abdomen and incanted,

" _Nongravidare Maxima._ "

"Oh. Right. Thank you," Bellatrix nodded, and he raised his eyebrows. The last thing either of them needed was a bastard to come of this dalliance. Suddenly there was pressure between Bellatrix's legs, and she gasped as that pressure began to fill her. Something was stretching her walls. Mr Riddle's eyes were locked onto hers, and as he pushed into her, Bellatrix squirmed and gasped. Burning, ripping. She squeezed her eyes shut as the bad sensations passed, taken over by a feeling of fullness, a feeling of satisfaction.

"Oh," she breathed. "Feels good now."

He moved gingerly, pumping his hips with slow, steady, rhythmic strokes. Bellatrix let her head fall back, and then she heard Mr Riddle declare,

"I'm sorry; this is not going to be a lengthy endeavour."

"Hmmm?" Bellatrix was lost in it all, lost in the feel of him moving atop her, swaying above her, and then suddenly he stopped moving and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"Bella," he whispered, and she shivered to hear him use her shortened name.

"Yes." She held onto his hair as he came; she could feel it pumping into her. She pressed his face against her neck and hummed, "Yes."

"Bella." He kissed the skin of her neck and then moved his mouth to hers, and for a very long while, he just kissed her. He kissed her even as he started to go soft and slid out of her body. He kissed her as his come leaked out between them, as she pet his chest and squeezed his shoulders. Finally he broke away and lay on his back beside her on the bed. He panted a little, and Bellatrix just stared at him.

"What time did you come here?" she asked him, knowing she'd been fast asleep less than an hour after he'd brought her up.

"Ten past midnight," he replied. "I knew you'd be sleeping. I…. somehow I knew you wouldn't mind."

Bellatrix imagined him quietly climbing into bed beside her, falling asleep beside her. She shut her eyes and heard her voice against her neck. _Bella._ She reached up and wrapped her fingers around the locket he'd given her.

"There will be battles," she said, her eyes still shut, "and when there are, I'm going to kill people for you."

She opened her eyes, and Mr Riddle was staring at her like she was the most beautiful thing in all the world. He licked his bottom lip and murmured,

"And what do you think of the Cruciatus Curse, Miss Black?"

Her heart hammered. She curled up half her mouth, imagining the red web of light and the shriek of an enemy. She nodded.

"For you," she told him, "anything."

Suddenly he was breathing quickly through his parted lips, and he asked her seriously,

"Not too sore for Round Two, are you?"

As she got wrapped up in another kiss, Bellatrix thought to herself that she very much did not want to go back to school on the Hogwarts Express in just a few days' time.

 **Author's Note: WHEW! That was a doozy of a chapter! Sorry; that one kind of ran away from me. But because it was so long, I'd be extra-especially grateful for feedback! Next up, we're going to see how these two handle being apart. Mwah hahaha.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Big day today!" said Jessamyn Malfoy, walking into the dining room, where a grand breakfast had been spread. "The two of you going back to school."

Lucius Malfoy sat at the table and tucked into some eggs, sausage, beans, and toast. Bellatrix slid into a chair and poured herself some pumpkin juice. She took one slice of toast and one fried egg, and she shut her eyes.

"I wish we didn't have to go back," she mumbled, and Lucius said through a bite of food,

"I thought you wanted to go back. You said it'd be a distraction."

"I thought so, too." Bellatrix poked at her egg. She felt ill. She pushed her plate forward and whispered, "Not too hungry."

"Morning," said a voice, and Bellatrix turned over her shoulder to see Tom Riddle come walking into the dining room, looking splendid in black robes. Her eyes welled as she remembered the last few nights spent curled in his arms, spent kissing him and having him inside of her. The night before, she'd ridden him until they'd both found satisfaction. Bellatrix gulped. Mr Riddle pulled out the chair beside her and sat, and as he made himself a plate, he said,

"I wish you both success and happiness during this term," said Mr Riddle lightly. Bellatrix huffed a breath and complained,

"I don't want to go back."

He shot her a look, and then he informed Abraxas Malfoy,

"Bellatrix is joining the movement when she graduates, Abraxas."

"Is she?" Abraxas Malfoy raised his pale brows, and he looked from Mr Riddle to Bellatrix and back. "How splendid."

"Well, there's always a home for you here, dear," said Mrs Malfoy, and Bellatrix gave a little smile of thanks.

"I'm more grateful than I can say for the hospitality, Mrs Malfoy."

After breakfast, Lucius and Bellatrix got their trunks ready. Bellatrix was in the foyer of Malfoy Manor, buckling up her trunk, crouched down, when Mr Riddle walked up to her and informed her tightly,

"I'll be escorting you to King's Cross."

"You will?" Bellatrix raised her eyes to him. He sighed down at her and asked,

"Your parents always took you, didn't they? We want to give the Malfoys the chance to properly say farewell to Lucius. I've offered to escort you. I'll take you by Side-Along Apparition, and I'll see you through Platform 9 ¾ and onto the train."

"You don't mind?" Bellatrix asked. She rose, wearing her Slytherin robes and suddenly feeling very self-conscious wearing them. Mr Riddle searched her with his eyes but shook his head. He said quietly,

"I don't mind."

"Thank you," Bellatrix nodded. She looked around and said, "It's probably time to go, isn't it?"

"If you want a good seat on the train, it is," he agreed. He wrapped his hand around the leather loop at the end of her trunk, and he held his hand out for her to take. Bellatrix shut her eyes, and then suddenly there was a swooping, pinching whirling. They were Apparating, and in an instant, they came to. They were in a brick-enclosed space, and a train whistle sounded nearby. Bellatrix looked about and licked her lip.

"I'll fetch a trolley," she said, and she walked off to a rack of luggage trolleys that were all in a row. She pulled one off the line and then froze. She stood there with the trolley thinking of how, on the first of September, her parents had brought her and Andromeda and Narcissa to the Hogwarts Express.

She reached up and wrapped her hand around her locket, and she let out a shaking breath. Not even a month had passed since her family had suffocated on the noxious gas from her father's potion. A month ago, she'd been at school with her sisters and her parents had been at home, alive. So much had changed. Bellatrix raised her eyes and stared at Mr Riddle, who stood there leaning against her trunk, and she whispered it aloud.

"So much has changed."

She pushed the trolley toward him, and she gulped. When she approached him, he wandlessly Levitated the trunk up onto the trolley and let it lay there. Nobody passing by would have known how little effort he'd put into lifting up the heavy trunk, but Bellatrix knew his magic was powerful. She walked with him past Platforms Seven and Eight, and when they reached Platform Nine, they paused. Bellatrix turned to Mr Riddle and asked meaningfully,

"Would you consider writing to me? Every once in a great while? Sir?"

"Yes." He tipped his head and reached to tuck her curls behind her ear. "I'll write to you. And when you graduate, you'll join my movement full-time. Won't you?"

"Yes." Bellatrix whispered the word, and she thought two words as hard as she could. _Lord Voldemort._

"Let's go," he mumbled, and they passed Platform Nine. They neared the column between Platforms Nine and Ten, and Bellatrix ran toward it as quickly as she could with her trolley. Normally, she'd have a cage with an owl inside, but her pet owl Euclides had died in the tragedy at the Black family home, and she hadn't replaced him. So she just had her trunk as she went dashing through the brick wall. On the other side was the vast open platform for the Hogwarts Express, and there were already families gathered on the cobblestones.

Mr Riddle came through just after Bellatrix, and she flashed him a little smile of gratitude as he wandlessly Levitated her trunk into the open luggage compartments.

"I'll take the trolley back," he assured her, and Bellatrix chomped her lip, her stomach twisting. She remembered the night before, kissing him until their lips were bruised, hearing him whisper in the darkness, _You are very beautiful._ Bellatrix's eyes watered suddenly, and she whispered up to him,

"There will be battles."

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed back. He blinked. "I meant what I said. Just before you left last night."

Bellatrix couldn't breathe then. She'd been ready to sneak back to her own quarters, and he'd caught her wrist in his hand and had murmured, _I find myself very content when I am with you. Content in a way I've not been for a great long while. I shall miss you._

And he'd meant it, apparently. Bellatrix nodded. She touched at her locket as the steam whistle from the train gave the students the first warning to board.

"Thank you," she told him, "for everything."

"Do well in your studies," he commanded her, "and be happy."

"I shall try on both counts," she vowed. She backed away slowly, knowing she could show him no affection here, and as she climbed onto the train, she felt a physical pull of separation. She found an empty compartment, but she was soon joined by Ligeia Travers and Ianthe Rowle. They plopped down and waved out the window to their parents, and Ianthe asked,

"Is that Tom Riddle? Did he bring you here, Bellatrix?"  
"Well, it isn't as though I had parents to bring me," she snapped, and Ianthe's cheeks went scarlet.

"Of course. I'm sorry."

Bellatrix sighed, staring at where Mr Riddle stood with the empty trolley. She found his eyes through the window, and she informed the other girls,

"He's been very good to me."

"Like a father figure?" asked Ianthe, and Bellatrix shot her a glare. Ianthe's cheeks went red again, and Ligeia snarled,

"You're full of tact today, aren't you, Ianthe?"

"Sorry," mumbled the plump girl. Bellatrix huffed a sigh and waved a little to Mr Riddle. He held up a hand to her, and she informed her schoolmates,

"Nothing like a father figure. Something different. Better. He's taken very good care of me."

The other girls wisely stayed silent after that. When the train left the station, Bellatrix felt her chest yank. Once he'd disappeared from view, she felt an emptiness inside of her that persisted all the way to Scotland. She didn't even feel like eating any of the treats the Trolley Witch brought round. She talked with Ianthe and Ligeia about how Andromeda and Narcissa were meant to be at school, and then she begged them to change the subject, and they talked about Quidditch instead.

When the train steamed into Hogsmeade Station, Bellatrix knew what was coming. Sure enough, at the Start of Term Feast in the Great Hall, Professor Dumbledore rose and demanded silence, and then he said gravely,

"Over the Christmas holidays, the Hogwarts family lost two of our sisters from Slytherin House. Andromeda and Narcissa Black perished tragically in a horrific potions accident. Their sister, Bellatrix, survived through quick wit and powerful magic. But she is left alone without her family in a time of profound grief, and we all grieve with her. Miss Black, you have all of our sincerest condolences. Our hearts are heavy. Our tears are many. And we are incomplete without Andromeda and Narcissa. Many of you were their friends. Should you feel that you need to speak about their passing, staff and teachers are available, as is Madam Holbrook in the Infirmary. We dedicate this term to the memories of Andromeda and Narcissa and their parents. Let us raise our wands to remember them now."

He pulled out his knobby, thin wand and held it aloft, casting a _Lumos_ charm so that it glowed. All the students in the Great Hall and all the teachers did the same, illuminating their wands and raising them. Bellatrix's hand shook as she pulled out her wand.

" _Lumos_ ," she whispered, and then she raised her wand up in the air. Suddenly the Great Hall was filled with a sea of gently pulsing bluish lights. Bellatrix felt her eyes well as she stared down the Slytherin table and imagined vibrant little Narcissa sitting beside Lucius, who looked despondent as he held his wand up. She imagined serene, confident Andromeda with her friends. She imagined getting little packages by owl from her mother at home.

Gone. They were all gone.

All there was now was the movement. All there was was him. All she had now was the war he would wage, the battles he would fight. All she had were the ideals he would espouse and the obedience he would demand of her. Her family was gone. All she had was Lord Voldemort.

* * *

 _Dear Bellatrix,_

 _You have only been at school for one day, and already you are receiving a letter from me. I suspect you thought I'd wait longer to write. But I should like to open a window of correspondence, for I find that communication with you brings me some measure of happiness. I suspect that this will be true even in the written format. With that in mind, I have an assignment for you._

 _Write to me every other day. Tell me of your lessons, of Slytherin Quidditch matches, of the mundane little things that make your life at Hogwarts what it is. I promise to find them interesting._

 _There will be battles._

 _-Tom Riddle (L.V.)_

* * *

 _Dear Mr Riddle (How I wish to use your other name. Shall I write it?),_

 _Today in History of Magic, I looked around to see that I was the only student who was awake. Yes, everyone else had fallen asleep! When Professor Binns dismissed lessons, I was the only one who got up and walked out of the room. I laughed so hard I was almost sick._

 _Professor Slughorn invited me to a Slug Club dinner. I'm not certain what I did to be considered worthy of inclusion in the Slug Club, other than exemplary performance in Potions lessons and being the sole survivor of a newsworthy tragedy. Anyway, it's this weekend, so I'll let you know how it goes. Lucius was invited, too._

 _I dislike sleeping in the dormitory. I forgot how much I dislike it. How are things with you, Sir? I promise to find everything you say more than a little interesting._

 _Bellatrix_

* * *

 _Dear Bellatrix,_

 _Best use Riddle for now. I hate it more than you ever could; I promise._

 _I was a member of the Slug Club myself in my day. I went to many a Slug Club dinner. They're awkward, but just smile and compliment the man and the food and all will be well. He likes to curate curiosities and success stories, and you're both. Congratulations._

 _I look forward to hearing about it._

 _When is your first Hogsmeade visit of term?_

 _Tom Riddle (L.V.)_

* * *

 _Dear Mr Riddle (And Mr You-Know-Who),_

 _Slytherin's Seeker fell off his broom in practise and broke both legs. Not an auspicious beginning to the Quidditch season. You asked about Quidditch - there's the news._

 _I am anxiously attempting to determine whether to wear my hair up or down to the Slug Club dinner. Input is appreciated. I'm sure my future depends on my hairstyle._

 _Our first Hogsmeade visit of term isn't until the eighth of February. Why do you ask?_

 _Bellatrix_

* * *

 _Dear Bellatrix,_

 _Wear your curls down, most assuredly. Anyone can wear some tight-knit style; nobody's got curls like yours. Wear them down. You'll be fine at the dinner. I look forward to hearing about it._

 _Enjoy yourself at Hogsmeade when that date comes to pass._

 _Tom Riddle (L.V.)_

 **Author's Note: Who's ready for a Slug Club dinner? And who's ready for a Hogsmeade visit? Mwah hahaha. Thanks so very much for reading and a massive extra thank you for reviewing.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Bellatrix… ooooh." Ianthe lay on her stomach on her bed and kicked her stockinged feet back and forth. "You look _so_ pretty."

"Are you certain?" asked Bellatrix nervously. She glanced down at her elegant raw silk gown and then fingered the curls she'd smoothed with Sleekeazy's. She dragged her thumb over her silver and emerald locket and said anxiously, "I don't want to go to this thing."

"To the Slug Club? Why not? I'm so jealous of you for getting invited" Ianthe breathed. "D'you suppose it's because you're so brilliant with Potions?"

"I think it's because I survived a terrible tragedy through my own use of magic." Bellatrix pinched her lips, and Ianthe was quiet for a while. Bellatrix turned, and Ianthe gave her a solemn look.

"You're alive for a reason," the girl insisted, and Bellatrix thought of Mr Riddle, of the battles she'd fight for him, and she agreed,

"You're right, Ianthe. I'm here for a reason."

She walked smoothly through the corridors of Hogwarts as she made her way to Horace Slughorn's office. When she reached it, she heard the strains of an enchanted violin playing itself inside, and when she opened the door, the office had been decorated in deep burgundy and gold silks and garlands.

"Ah, Miss Black!" called Horace Slughorn, and everyone at the round dining table rose. Bellatrix smiled demurely, and Slughorn raised his glass of Champagne. "Let us drink to your family, Miss Black."

Everyone raised their glasses and sipped, and Bellatrix nodded.

"Thank you, Professor," she said. She sat, and then everyone went round the table and talked about themselves. Kain McGregor from Gryffindor was the son of a retired Holyhead Harpies Chaser, so he talked about how his mother was doing these days. Sloane Ainsley from Hufflepuff was the daughter of the Head of International Magical Cooperation, but Sloane seemed like a dull girl with no personality. Cornelia Chadwick from Ravenclaw was apparently the most gifted pupil at Charms that the school had seen since Tom Riddle. Eventually the conversation got to Lucius Malfoy, who assured Horace Slughorn in a haughty voice that his father Abraxas and his mother Jessamyn were doing very well, thank you, and that they would be very glad to see Slughorn sometime soon. Then Slughorn turned his attention to Bellatrix.

"My dear," he said cautiously, "I am made to understand that you survived the terrible tragedy that befell your beloved family by blowing out the windows of the conservatory in your home."

Bellatrix couldn't believe he was asking her about this. The others seemed shocked, as well, and silence fell as people stopped eating. Bellatrix cleared her throat and said as steadily as she could,

"I felt a burning in my throat. I smelled a foul odour. I knew there was gas in the house. My first instinct was to aim my wand at the windows and scream _Finestra_. I needed air. I staggered toward the door and made my way out into the gardens. I coughed out the gas and breathed in as much fresh air as I could. Mouthfuls of it. Lungfuls of it. And then it occurred to me that my family was in the house, and that there had been gas. I cast a Fresh-Air Bubble Charm around my head and ventured back inside. I found my father with his cauldron. My mother was in the library with the House-Elf. My sisters were upstairs in their bedrooms. I Disapparated immediately to Malfoy Manor, the home of my father's best friend, and Mr Malfoy helped me alert the Ministry and get help."

Now Horace Slughorn looked very embarrassed for having asked anything at all, and the silence around the table was so heavy that the air felt thick. Sloane Ainsley looked visibly upset, and Cornelia Chadwick swiped a few tears from her eyes. Lucius Malfoy finally murmured,

"It's awful."

"Positively terrible, my boy," Slughorn said in a hoarse voice. He sipped deeply from his glass of water, and Bellatrix suggested lightly,

"Perhaps a change of topic in conversation, sir? I do not mean to put a damper on your party with sorrowful tales."

"No, of course not, and I do apologise for prying, Miss Black. You are brave and skilled," Slughorn assured her. He cleared his throat very roughly indeed and turned to Kain McGregor. "Kain, my boy. You play Chaser just like your mother did. How goes Gryffindor training this year?"

The rest of the meal was stilted and weighty. The consequence of Slughorn having inquired about the Black family tragedy dragged down the Slug Club dinner. By the time dessert was served - puff pastries filled with cream - Bellatrix knew she had to do something to salvage the evening, and, more importantly, her reputation with Slughorn. She sipped her water and said to the professor,

"Mr Riddle and I became something of friends over the holidays, Professor Slughorn."

"Tom Riddle?" He raised his eyebrows and seemed surprised. "You're friends with Tom Riddle?"

Bellatrix smiled warmly. "He's been very good to me these last few weeks."

"I always thought so highly of Tom," said Slughorn, "but I thought he'd become Minister for Magic or something of the sort. I wonder what will become of him as he grows old."

"I think we'll all be amazed by him, sir," said Bellatrix cryptically, popping a puff pastry into her mouth. Lucius was chatting with Cornelia Chadwick, and she was glad to see him having a vibrant conversation. He'd seemed so depressed since Narcissa's death. Now he was talking in low, furtive voices to Cornelia about Charms, and Bellatrix smirked. She turned back to Professor Slughorn, who looked troubled, and she asked,

"Was he very brilliant indeed, sir?"

"What? Hmm?" Slughorn seemed to snap out of a trance, and he met Bellatrix's eyes. "Was who brilliant, my dear? Tom Riddle? Oh, yes. He was the most brilliant pupil Hogwarts has ever known, I would wager to say. Certainly he was the most brilliant student I've ever taught."

Bellatrix swelled up a little at that, and she nodded. She had a sudden memory of him, of Mr Riddle. He'd been above her, pumping into her, staring down at her, and he'd caressed her breasts as he'd murmured, _I think you're the prettiest witch I've ever seen._

Suddenly her stomach twisted and churned, and she popped another pastry into her mouth. She wanted him. She wanted to be with him right now.

After dessert, people started to leave, but Bellatrix lingered. She was the last one in the office, and once she was alone with Slughorn, she said to the teacher,

"I apologise for going into so much detail about what happened, sir."

"I ought not to have asked about it at all," he insisted. "I am very sorry."

"People are curious," Bellatrix shrugged. "Now you know the truth. So. What do you think? Am I very brave for breaking out the windows and saving myself whilst my family died inside?"

Slughorn's face fell. He leaned onto the round dining table, and he shook his head.

"You are brave and skilled for saving your own life in a split second," he told her, "and you are handling this disaster with grace and aplomb."

"Mr Riddle called me _unsentimental_ ," Bellatrix said, almost proudly. "I think one must be just a little unsentimental in order to cope with a thing such as this."

Slughorn stared for a long moment. "And are you? Unsentimental?"

Bellatrix reached up for the locket around her neck, the one that had photographs of her family inside. She shook her head and sighed.

"I'll get there someday."

"Do not lose your soul, Miss Black, even in the face of great darkness," begged Slughorn, and Bellatrix smirked just a little.

"Never, sir. Thank you for the dinner."

* * *

"Bellatrix?"

She looked up from where she was studying in the Slytherin Common Room to see Rodolphus Lestrange sliding into the chair opposite her. She frowned as he folded his hands on the desk between them and asked,

"Do you have a moment?"

"I suppose so." Bellatrix shut her textbook and set down her quill. She raised her eyebrows at Rodolphus, whose pimpled face seemed awfully nervous just now.

"Bellatrix," he said again. His hands tightened around one another. His throat visibly bobbed, and he finally said, "Our fathers spent over a year discussing the idea of you and I marrying."

"Oh." Bellatrix could feel where this was going, and she didn't like it one bit. She shoved her textbook into her rucksack and started packing up her parchments and quills and ink, and she insisted, "Those talks went nowhere."

"Only because your father - very unfortunately - passed away," Rodolphus reminded her. "Our fathers were very near an arrangement when the awful event occurred."

Bellatrix shut her eyes. She knew that was true. Her father had been weeks away from signing a contract with Rudy Lestrange when he'd died. Bellatrix would have married Rodolphus after leaving Hogwarts, like a good little Pureblood girl. She opened her eyes and stared at Rodolphus, who eyed her expectantly.

"You and I can sign our own contract," he told her. "We can agree to marry on our own terms. No fathers involved. No money exchanged. But the outcome is the same."

Bellatrix felt ill. She touched her forehead and demanded,

"Are you… are you asking me to marry you, Rodolphus?"

"Yes, I am," he said, and Bellatrix shook her head as she whimpered quietly.

"I can't do this."

A look of realisation came over Rodolphus' face, and he nodded.

"Of course. It's much to close to everything that's happened. How stupid of me, to ask right now. Maybe in March or April, but not right now. I understand. You're not ready to discuss it right now."

Bellatrix blinked. That seemed like an easy way to get out of this conversation - just put it off indefinitely. She gulped and nodded.

"Right," she said. "I'm not ready to discuss it. Thanks for understanding, Dolph."

"We'll talk about it some other time," he said warmly. He reached for her hand and squeezed carefully, and Bellatrix did everything she could not to physically recoil from him. She breathed quickly through her nostrils and whispered,

"I'm going to bed early, I think."

"I understand," Rodolphus said, and he rose from his chair. "Forgive me."

"All's well," Bellatrix mumbled, walking quickly away from him toward the girls' dormitories.

* * *

 _Dear Bellatrix,_

 _I could tell at the Malfoy New Year's party that the Lestrange boy had strong feelings for you, and I knew negotiations for your marriage were well underway. Still, it's a shock, somehow, to hear that he propositioned you into an at-will marriage. I confess I thoroughly dislike the idea of it, and I hope you'll decide against it._

 _I have had some very productive meetings regarding the movement. Momentum is building._

 _Slytherin versus Gryffindor in Quidditch coming up, eh? Hope your Seeker's legs are healed up._

 _Tom Riddle (L.V.)_

* * *

 _Dear Mr Riddle,_

 _How could I marry him when I have such plans after graduation? I am going to be your servant. I am going to be whatever you need me to be, and that will require all of my attention. How could I give of myself to Rodolphus Lestrange when for me there is only you - him - that name I dare not speak or write? How could I become a wife when I am to become a soldier?_

 _Slytherin lost to Gryffindor._

 _Bellatrix_

* * *

 _Bellatrix,_

 _Do you ever think of me when you've closed the curtains of your bed and you're as alone as you can be? Do you think of the man who will be your master, the man who touched you over the holidays? I often stare at the ceiling at night thinking of you and wondering if, by chance, you might be doing the same._

 _L.V._

* * *

 _Sir,_

 _Every night._

 _Bellatrix_

* * *

 _Bellatrix,_

 _I know it's off-limits to students, but break the rules. Meet me at The Occamy's Razor on the eighth of February when you go into Hogsmeade. Ask at the front desk for Mr Riddle and they'll tell you my room. I know the place is terrifying, but the options are few and my determination is strong. I'll meet you at The Occamy's Razor at ten o'clock on the eighth._

 _L.V._

* * *

 _Sir,_

 _I'll be there._

 _Bellatrix_

 **Author's Note: Whew! That was an awkward Slug Club meeting, no? And, way to go, Rodolphus (eye roll). Now, for a hookup in a "terrifying," off-limits wizarding motel called The Occamy's Razor. What could possibly happen there? Thanks for reading. I know this story is pretty niche and I'm updating at lightspeed (not really leaving time for reviews), so I really, really do appreciate any and all feedback.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Just go up the stairs and enter the Headmaster's office, my dear. He's waiting for you," said Horace Slughorn, and Bellatrix frowned in confusion. She'd been brought from the Slytherin Common Room all the way up from the dungeons to the Headmaster's Tower. Was she in some sort of trouble? What on Earth had she done? Professor Slughorn tapped his wand to a gargoyle outside the entrance to the office, and he said firmly, " _Liquorice Wand._ "

The doorway began to quiver and and then to move, and a portal was opened up that revealed great winding stone stairs. Bellatrix glanced at Professor Slughorn and nodded. He gestured for her to go, and she pinched her lips as she pattered up the stairs. What was this all about? She hurried up one stair and then another until she was breathless, and finally she reached the top. When she did, she came out into a warm, cramped office filled to the brim with walls of portraits, endless contraptions and machines, what appeared to be a young phoenix perched upon a brass rod… and Albus Dumbledore.

He was seated at his stout, heavy desk, and he looked up as Bellatrix walked in. He wandlessly pushed out the chair opposite him and said warmly,

"My dear. Do come in. I hope you are holding up well in light of everything that's happened."

"I'm doing fine, Headmaster. Thanks." Bellatrix sank into the leather chair, and Dumbledore eyed her over his half-moon spectacles. He touched his thin fingers together and noted,

"The Malfoy family have been remarkably generous with you since the accident, have they not?"

Bellatrix felt uneasy. Was this some sort of interrogation? She nodded. "Very generous, sir."

"And staying in their house is also one Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore lightly. When Bellatrix didn't answer, Dumbledore held up a bowl of candies and offered, "Jelly slugs?"

"No, thank you," Bellatrix mumbled. Dumbledore took one for himself - the man obviously had an incurable sweet tooth - and he set the bowl back down. He waited until he'd eaten the jelly slug, and then he pronounced,

"Tom Riddle came to me in 1967 asking for a teaching position. I turned him down."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open. That was news to her. Was it the truth? She just sat in silence, but Dumbledore continued,

"There are some people, Miss Black, who have within them too much Darkness to be teaching young minds, and Mr Riddle is one of those people. He was not at all pleased with my rejection."

"Why are you telling me this? Sir?" Bellatrix demanded, and Dumbledore folded his hands on his desk as he said carefully,

"You have a choice to make, now that your family is lost. What sort of a future will you make for yourself, Miss Black? What sort of people will you surround yourself with in order to ensure that you live the very best life you might?"

Suddenly Bellatrix understood. Horace Slughorn had told Dumbledore that she was close to Tom Riddle. But why? What made Slughorn so uneasy about Mr Riddle? Bellatrix scowled and insisted,

"I'm making all the right choices. I promise."

"I think you believe you are making all the exciting choices," Dumbledore said rather condescendingly. Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, but Dumbledore barreled on, "There are some people whose presence in our lives strengthens us, makes us braver and more right than ever. And there are some people whose presence poisons us. Miss Black, I believe Tom Riddle is poison."

Bellatrix scoffed and shook her head. "Then you don't know him the way you think you do, with all due respect, sir."

Dumbledore pursed his thin lips and nodded. "Perhaps not. Perhaps the man has changed since we last met. But what I do know of him - decades' worth of knowing - tells me that he is a poisonous wizard, Miss Black, and he will poison your life if you let him. Do not allow it. You are worth more than what he would ask of you."

Bellatrix flew to her feet, feeling her eyes sear with rage.

"Must I stay, or may we be finished here?" she asked angrily. Dumbledore stared up at her, and a look crossed his face that told Bellatrix everything. He was mourning her. She was already gone. Bellatrix shoved curls out of her eyes and huffed a breath. Dumbledore let out a shaking sigh, and his phoenix emitted a strange, sorrowful little noise.

"I am so glad to hear that you are coping well in the wake of your family's disaster, Miss Black," said Albus Dumbledore, "and I am so very glad you survived."

"Me, too," Bellatrix said rather bitterly. "May I go?"

He nodded. "Good day to you, Miss Black."

She turned and headed briskly for the stairs. "Good day, Headmaster."

* * *

The morning of the eighth of February was so cold that Bellatrix could feel it in the Slytherin girls' dormitory. The chill pervaded the entire castle. As she and the other girls dressed and cleaned their teeth, everyone chatted about what they were going to do in Hogsmeade. Ligeia talked about going to Gladrags Wizardwear to get new dress robes for the upcoming Slytherin Valentine's Day Party. Ianthe decided that was a very good idea, but Bellatrix insisted she had other errands to run.

The walk down to Hogsmeade was frigid. Even through her thick woolen mittens that she'd charmed with a Warming Spell, Bellatrix could feel the cold. Her nose felt like it was going to fall off. She shivered fiercely as she walked with a purpose down the path that led from the school to the village. Bellatrix felt anxiety ripple through her core as she realised Tom Riddle - Lord Voldemort - was here in the town, waiting for her.

The Occamy's Razor was located off the High Street that students most often frequented. It was on a small alley in Hogsmeade Village, a rickety-looking building that was strictly off-limits to Hogwarts students. It was known for prostitution of all kinds - goblins, vampires, and more came there to buy sex from their own species. Veela were known to sell themselves to witches and wizards. It was a Dark place in a happy village, and it was a place where students simply weren't allowed.

So Bellatrix walked right up to the front door and opened it.

She walked inside, finding a warm, dark interior of blacks and browns illuminated by just a few lanterns on the walls. She looked around and saw what appeared to be a cloaked man sitting on a chair with a beautiful blonde women hovering over him. Bellatrix ignored them, and she went up to the front desk, where a goblin sat looking sour and angry.

"Mr Riddle?" Bellatrix asked softly. The goblin narrowed his eyes.

"Room Seven."

"Thank you." Bellatrix pulled the hood of her cloak down and headed for the stairs. She climbed them slowly, her feet creaking on the wooden steps, and when she reached the first landing, she looked around. There were only four rooms on this level, she could see. She needed to go higher. She kept climbing. She ascended more stairs, and when she reached the next landing, she passed rooms five and six and finally found Room Seven. She knocked firmly on the door and waited. After what seemed like a long moment, the door creaked open, and Mr Riddle stood before her in black robes.

"Sir," she breathed, for it felt like an eternity since she'd seen him. They'd written letters, but it wasn't the same. He stepped aside and gestured for her to come in, and when he shut the door, he asked,

"Has Dumbledore met with you again?"

"No, sir," she promised him. He nodded. She looked around the little room, with its pale blue bedding on a twisting dark wood frame. There was barely any other furniture in the room. This space needed a bed and a bathroom, nothing else. Bellatrix looked anxiously at Mr Riddle, and he told her,

"I spent ten minutes Scouring the place."

"Thank you," she said. He approached her, seeming anxious, his hands visibly shaking, and he unlatched her winter cloak. He pushed it off of her, then started to work on her Slytherin robe. Bellatrix let him begin to undress her, and she murmured,

"I've missed you, sir."

"Mmm-hmm." He bent to kiss her, his lips careful, and then he whispered, "We need to hurry. You can't linger here."

Bellatrix took the rest of her own clothes off then, stripping off her jumper and tie and shirt and skirt, her stockings and loafers. She watched as Mr Riddle pulled off his black robe and the tunic beneath, letting them fall to the ground as he shoved his trousers down and kicked off his boots. Then suddenly they were both naked, and he pushed her toward the bed. He brought them beneath the blankets, for it was chilly in here even with a fire raging in the marble fireplace. Bellatrix snuggled beneath the blankets with him, and she stared at him.

"This doesn't feel like hurrying," she laughed gently, and Mr Riddle just dragged his knuckles over Bellatrix's cheek and whispered,

"My bed has been empty in a way I did not know it could be."

"I hate school," Bellatrix complained. "I miss… I want to be in the movement."

He nodded. He leaned nearer to Bellatrix and kissed her again, and this time when he did, he reached up and held onto the locket he'd given her for a moment. He let go and moved his lips to her neck, and he whispered against her skin,

"I don't want you marrying that Lestrange boy."

"I won't," she puffed, tangling her fingers into his hair. She let him dig his tongue against her neck as she gasped and went wet, and she hummed with pleasure.

Poison. Dumbledore had said this man was poison. But he didn't feel like poison as he cast a contraceptive charm, pulled Bellatrix atop him, and lined himself up with her body. He didn't feel like poison as she sank onto him with a hiss, as she rocked back and forth and bobbed up and down. If he was poison, then she wanted to die by him.

She swayed above him, grinding her hips down onto his with rhythmic swaying that drove their pelvic bones together. His hands searched her torso, fingers dragging up her ribs and squeezing at her breasts. He seemed breathless and was red-cheeked as he tipped his head back and declared,

"You are the prettiest witch I've ever seen."

Her eyes welled then, because he'd said something similar before she'd left for school. Only, then, he'd said that he _thought_ she was the prettiest witch he'd ever seen. Now he seemed more certain. Bellatrix held onto his hands as she moved, and she could feel her satisfaction building inside of her. She ground her hips down hard and fast, as quickly and vigorously as she could, and at last the friction against her clit was far too much to take. She froze, choking out a sound and leaning forward. She was coming then, cinching tightly around his cock as her hands shook on his, and she whispered,

"I've missed you."

"Bella." His voice was like honey then, and after a few moments, she felt his seed spurting up into her body, felt him twitching inside of her, and he arched up a little and squirmed.

At long last, she lay beside him under the blankets again, staring at him as they lay on the Scoured pillows. Bellatrix's breath shook as she studied his burned, marled face, and she murmured,

"I didn't know you'd come asking after a teaching position."

"He told you." Mr Riddle nodded, and then he smirked. "How many Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers have you had the last few years?"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "They don't last more than a year, it seems."

"No. And they never will, thanks to me," Mr Riddle announced proudly. "Dumbledore made an error in rejecting me, but it is of little consequence now. I am destined for greater things than a teaching position."

"Yes, you are." Bellatrix kissed his knuckles. "There will be battles. Will he be the enemy?"

Mr Riddle was quiet for a long moment, but then he sighed and nodded. "Probably."

They lay there for almost an hour until it was determined that Bellatrix _really_ needed to go, and she finally scrambled to get all of her clothes on. She kissed Mr Riddle against the door for another five minutes before she tore herself away from him, promising to write to him often, and to visit him here again at the next Hogsmeade day. As she peeled herself off of him and went out into the corridor, a whisper from behind her begged her,

"Don't marry that Lestrange boy, Bella."

She looked over her shoulder to see him standing in the doorway, looking serious."

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir," she promised him. She reached for his hand, squeezed, and made her way downstairs, out of the seedy, forbidden establishment. She managed to get back to the High Street without being seen or caught, and there was a distinctive bounce in her step as she walked with the other Slytherin girls back to the castle, listening to them gush about their new dress robes.

 **Author's Note: Uh-oh. Dumbledore's onto them. Now what's this about a Slytherin Valentine's Day party? (ominous music) Thanks as always for reading and a massive thank you for reviewing.**


	8. Chapter 8

"Lucius."

Bellatrix sipped her Butterbeer and sat on the plush green sofa beside Lucius Malfoy. He sighed and flashed her a shy little smile as Orsino and the Bears blasted from an Amplified record player. Tonight was the Slytherin Valentine's Day party, and Bellatrix had come in a caped silk gown with her hair pulled into a chignon. Lucius sat in dress robes on the sofa in the Common Room, looking morose and sipping his own Butterbeer. He pinched his lips and asked,

"Enjoying the party, Bellatrix?"

"You've been sitting alone all night," Bellatrix noted, ignoring his question. "You're missing her tonight."

Lucius' pale eyes shone. "If she were here," he said, "I'd give her roses. I'd give her jewellery. I'd tell her how I felt about her."

"Hmm. You would have been perfect for her," Bellatrix said thickly, reaching up for her locket. She was tempted to open it, as she did sometimes, to see the little photograph of Narcissa waving at the camera. But she let her hand fall, and she sighed. "She wouldn't want you sitting alone."

Lucius said nothing to that. He just picked at his robes and took a sip of Butterbeer. Bellatrix desperately looked over her shoulder and saw a third-year Slytherin girl, a pretty Pureblood with auburn hair. She cleared her throat and said,

"Delilah Selwyn has been eyeing you for an hour, Lucius. Why don't you go and talk to her? No commitments. No betrayals. Just go talk to Delilah Selwyn."

Lucius raised his eyes and stared at the pretty auburn-haired witch. Delilah glanced over, and when she saw Lucius staring at her, she flashed a little smile. Bellatrix huffed a breath.

"You see?"

Lucius finally heaved himself to his feet, and he murmured again, "If she were here, I'd give her roses. My Cissy."

"I know you would," Bellatrix nodded, and she watched as Lucius walked off slowly toward Delilah Selwyn.

"Bellatrix."

She looked up from where she sat, and then her stomach twisted. Rodolphus Lestrange was taking Lucius' place on the sofa, and he held out a dozen red roses to Bellatrix. He smiled warmly.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Bellatrix."

"Oh. Dolph." Bellatrix slowly took the roses and felt a knot in her throat. "This is very kind of you, but I… you need to understand that I… I'm not…"

"What's the matter, Bellatrix?" asked Rodolphus cautiously, and Bellatrix struggled to find the right words. Finally she met Rodolphus' eyes, and she told him,

"I'm not available."

Realisation came over Rodolphus' face, and he nodded. "It's him, isn't it? Tom Riddle."

Bellatrix said nothing. She just slowly handed the roses back to Rodolphus, and she stood from the sofa. Rodolphus scoffed and shrugged.

"I suppose we won't be getting married, then," he said, and Bellatrix shook her head.

"No," she affirmed. "We won't be getting married. I'm sorry. I've got to go."

She walked quickly away then, out of the party and toward the girls' dormitories. She had a letter to write.

* * *

 _Bellatrix,_

 _I hope the spring weather is settling nicely over Hogwarts. Even early March can be a pleasant enough time, I find, when it follows the horridness that is February._

 _I have had most productive meetings as of late regarding funding. My new name is also gaining wider recognition._

 _It seems odd that a month has passed since the eighth of February. Why don't they give you Hogsmeade visits more often? Damnation._

 _Tell me more of what is happening for you. I find myself imagining your days and require you to fill my head._

 _L.V._

* * *

 _Sir,_

 _The sun was so warm and pleasant yesterday that I took a walk on the Viaduct between lessons. It was very pleasant indeed, especially after the horridness that is February._

 _How very glad I am to hear of forward motion for the movement! It brings my heart cheer to think of it. It makes my breath quicken in my lungs to imagine what's coming. And I will be there for it all, sir, won't I? There behind you._

 _Today in Potions lessons, we brewed Essence of Dittany, and I was the only one to get the consistency of the tincture right. In fact, mine was so good that Professor Slughorn sent it up for use in the Hospital Wing! He gave me extra credit and told me I'm the finest pupil he's had in many years. He probably means since you - everyone is always compared to Tom Riddle. After all, Tom Riddle was the greatest pupil Hogwarts has ever seen. But I did my best with the Dittany, and I was recognised for it. I thought you would be pleased to know._

 _Our next Hogsmeade visit is on the twenty-second of March._

 _Bellatrix_

* * *

 _Bellatrix,_

 _The Occamy's Razor. Ten o'clock._

 _-L.V._

* * *

 _Sir,_

 _That was close. I can't believe I was seen about to go into The Occamy's Razor by three other girls. I had to Confound all of them. I'm sorry we didn't get to meet up. I was so looking forward to it. I hope you are not angry with me. This term is endless. All I want is for it to be over so that I can serve you properly. And so that I can see you again. Why can't it be the first of June?_

 _Bellatrix_

* * *

 _Bellatrix,_

 _You're to come back to Malfoy Manor for the Easter holiday, aren't you? I'll see you on the twenty-eighth. I'll be at King's Cross to escort you back to the Manor._

 _-L.V._

* * *

The steam whistle roared as the Hogwarts Express powered into King's Cross Station.

"Oh, I know it's only home for a week, but I'm just so excited to see my parents," squealed Ianthe from across the compartment, and Ligeia scolded her,

"You really have no tact, do you?"

"What? Oh. _Oh._ " Horror crossed Ianthe's face, and she covered her mouth with her hands. "Bellatrix, I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry for me," Bellatrix insisted, staring out the window as they pulled up to the platform. Out on the cobblestones was a figure cloaked in black, and she grinned. Ianthe and Ligeia followed Bellatrix's gaze, and Ianthe noted,

"That's Mr Riddle."

"Bellatrix," Ligeia said very carefully, "Is there something between you and him?"

"No," Bellatrix said lightly, rising and picking up her smaller traveling suitcase. "He's a friend. That's all."

When she hopped off the train in her uniform and made her way across the platform, she spied Lucius being wrapped up in his mother's arms. They'd see the Malfoys at the manor, she knew. As for her, she made her way straight to where Mr Riddle was standing with his hands folded before him. He reached out and wandlessly Summoned Bellatrix's suitcase, and she grinned her thanks.

Back at the manor, they walked down a corridor in silence, and then they climbed a winding flight of stone stairs, and they made their way down the hall where their quarters were. Mr Riddle followed Bellatrix to her quarters, which she opened, and the moment she shut the door to the corridor, he dropped her suitcase and pushed her up against the wall.

"Bella," he groaned, and she whispered helplessly,

"I'm bleeding! I'm sorry. I'm sorry; the timing is awful."

"You think I care whether I can stick my cock in you or not?" He shocked her by saying that, for she thought that, yes, he probably did care about that. But he kissed her harder than ever and grabbed at her breast through her Slytherin uniform, and suddenly she realised what he meant. He just wanted to touch her. To be near her. That made her want to cry. She'd been terribly upset when she'd awoken this morning to scarlet-stained knickers. She'd been looking forward to all kinds of sex with him over the Easter holiday. But instead she was getting ferocious kisses and was being pawed by firm hands, and she moaned into his mouth.

Finally he broke away, and he said down to her,

"Rudy Lestrange has made a very sizeable investment in the movement. I've told him that it would do him well to get his boys interested in joining up. Rabastan works a piddly Ministry job, and Rodolphus, well… in any case, I wanted to warn you that he may become a part of everything."

Bellatrix sighed and nodded. She tried to keep steady. "I'm glad you got such a large donation."

Mr Riddle smirked and tucked Bellatrix's hair behind her ear. "That's what you have to say? Nothing about the boy who pestered you to marry him?"

"My priority is on the movement," Bellatrix insisted, "and on you."

"Oh, Bella." Mr Riddle shut his eyes and squeezed at her hands. He bent down and touched his forehead to hers, and he whispered, "What I wish I could do to you."

Sex, she thought, but he shook his head and murmured,

"Not sex. Something much greater than that."

Bellatrix's heart thunked, and she just breathed in and out whilst he hovered over her.

"You're going to kill for me," he whispered, and she answered him,

"I'll kill as many people as you need me to."

"You'll cast the Cruciatus Curse for me," he suggested, and a slow jolt of energy worked its way through Bellatrix's veins. She shivered and whispered back,

"I'll do anything you command me to do."

"Good girl." He bent to kiss her again, but this time, he seemed distracted. When he pulled away, he hummed, "Call yourself mine."

"What?" Bellatrix was confused. He stood up, so tall looming over her, and he said almost sternly,

"Call yourself mine."

"Yours," Bellatrix repeated, furrowing her brows. Did he mean as a follower? Then a thought went through her mind, the stray ghost of a thought, an idea. _Girlfriend._

"Yes," Mr Riddle said, seeming anxious and uncomfortable. "Yes. That sort of notion. Wherein you and I are in an established… you know…"

 _Relationship_ , Bellatrix thought, and Mr Riddle nodded. She blinked rapidly a few times, trying to process what he'd just suggested. She should consider herself his girlfriend. She should consider herself in an established relationship with him. There was something formal between them. Bellatrix grinned and laughed a little, bringing her knuckles to her lips.

"Yours," she mumbled, and Mr Riddle pulled her knuckles away so he could bend and have access to her lips.

"Mine."

* * *

"That cough sounds nasty. Are you sure you're all right?"

Bellatrix sat up slowly, hacking in a seal-like bark that was also bringing up phlegm from her lungs. She gasped for air and croaked out,

"I'm sorry… keeping you awake."

"Bellatrix, being kept awake is the least of my concerns." Mr Riddle rose slowly out of her bed - he'd come into her chambers at ten and had curled up beside her when all she'd had was a little tickle in her throat. Now it had developed into a terrible barking, productive cough, and Mr Riddle wandlessly Conjured a goblet for Bellatrix. He cast an _Aguamenti_ charm to fill it with water, and he passed her the goblet. She drank deeply between coughs, nodding her thanks, but he looked very worried.

"I think you need a Healer," he declared. Bellatrix shook her head wildly.

"N-No… P-Please. I'm sure it's just a c-cold." She managed to get some words out between the coughing, but Mr Riddle sighed and said,

"Some noxious potion gases can linger in the lung tissue for months and reawaken their negative effects long after an emergency. Bellatrix, if we don't get you assistance tonight, you could choke and die."

Bellatrix froze, hacking as water sloshed in the goblet he'd handed her. She stared up at him, and he nodded crisply.

"I'll go next door and get dressed, and then I'll come back," he said. "Try and get yourself dressed. I'm taking you to St Mungo's."

 **Author's Note: So much fluff! Raise your hand if you feel badly for Lucius! And what will happen at St Mungo's? And what will happen when Dumbledore finds out that Tom Riddle took Bellatrix to St Mungo's? Duh duh duhhhhh. Twenty points to your House if you review! (Feel free to tell me your House in the review, too; I'm always curious about what Houses people belong to!)**


	9. Chapter 9

"Dobby, wake Abraxas and tell him we've gone to St Mungo's," snapped Mr Riddle in the corridor outside Bellatrix's quarters. The House-Elf scurried away obediently. Mr Riddle wrapped Bellatrix up in his arms and Disapparated at once, taking her with him. Bellatrix coughed and coughed, feeling dizzy, like she just couldn't get air. When they came to, Mr Riddle dragged her through the window of the seemingly-closed Muggle department store Purge and Dowse. On the other side of the magical gateway, he released her but held her hand as he led her up to a reception desk in a beautiful atrium.

"My goodness!" cried a witch behind the desk. "Is she quite ill? Let's get her to the emergencies department at once."

Suddenly Bellatrix was being led back behind the desk, through a doorway, coughing all the while, and the witch cried out,

"We've got a respiratory emergency here!"

"Put her in Bay Three!" called another voice, and Mr Riddle helped guide Bellatrix between some curtains and up onto a hospital bed.

"Someone will be with you in just a moment," said the witch from the front desk, and Mr Riddle nodded. Bellatrix's cough was getting worse now. She was wheezing hard, a low growl, every time she breathed in, and then barking roughly with the sound of spittle coming up when she coughed. She hacked repeatedly a few times, trying to bring up the phantom material from her lungs, and when she went to breathe in, it felt impossible.

"Bella?"

"Help!" she croaked, clutching at her chest. It burned like fire, and she whispered, "I… can't…"

"We need a Healer in here _now!_ " called Mr Riddle, and he pulled his chair up beside Bellatrix's bed. He pulled out his wand. He scowled as Bellatrix coughed and coughed again. Mr Riddle snarled and shouted, "HEALER! NOW!"

The curtain whipped aside, and a Healer in lime green robes came rushing inside with two burgundy-bedecked Mediwitches. Mr Riddle stood and moved aside, and the Healer held his wand out and aimed it right at Bellatrix's throat.

" _Patet Faucium! Pulmones! Finite Tussim!_ "

Bellatrix's coughing gradually slowed and then stopped, and she breathed more steadily, still wheezing. She blinked a few times, her throat burning like fire, and she eyed Mr Riddle. The Healer said to one of his Mediwitches,

"Fetch some Levigatus Potion to ease the throat pain. I'm ordering an interior imagery of the chest, so get that machine in here for me as soon as possible."

"Interior imagery?" asked Bellatrix in a growl. The Healer nodded.

"Are you familiar with Muggle X-Ray?"

"No." Bellatrix felt frightened. Mr Riddle explained patiently,

"Interior imagery in Magical medicine uses spellwork to show the bones and organs. The photograph produced shows if there is any detritus in an organ, or if a bone is broken. It is a diagnostic tool."

"Thank you, Mr… Mr Riddle, isn't it?" asked the Healer. Mr Riddle nodded, and the Healer turned to Bellatrix. "And this is Miss Black. You may not remember, Miss Black, but I treated you for gas inhalation the evening of the terrible accident."

"I'm sorry," she said, for she barely remembered the quick trip to St Mungo's that day. "It's all a blur."

"Of course. My name is Healer Ticco. I… I am concerned about this cough. Some noxious gases may linger in the lung tissue for a good length of time and resurface to cause problems."

"Yes, that's what Mr Riddle was saying," Bellatrix whispered, and Healer Ticco smiled a little.

"Mr Riddle seems to have a good working knowledge of medicine. Now, what we're going to do is perform the interior imagery of the chest to see if there's been any tissue damage, or if there's any evidence of ongoing problems from the gas."

Bellatrix felt her stomach flop.

"And if there is?" asked Mr Riddle from where he stood across the bay, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "If there's damage?"

Healer Ticco looked a little frightened, but he insisted, "There are potions. Medicines. Treatments… to heal damage. There are ways to undo tissue destruction to a certain level. This needn't run away from us before we have a handle on what's even going on. Now, forgive the awkwardness, but… Miss Black, I am glad you had Mr Riddle to bring you here, but do you wish for him to remain here during your testing and treatment, or would you prefer privacy?"

"No. No. Please don't go." Bellatrix's eyes welled, and she stared right at Mr Riddle. He shook his head and insisted,

"I'm not going anywhere."

Healer Ticco looked uncertain, but then the curtain peeled back and the Mediwitches came back. One had a bottle of potion, and Healer Ticco uncorked the bright blue bottle. He poured some into a spoon and handed the thick syrup to Bellatrix, who drank it down, tasting the cloying sweet flavour and feeling instant relief on her sore throat and the burn in her lungs. Healer Ticco corked the bottle and handed it back to the Mediwitch with the spoon. The other Mediwitch had something that looked like a wooden picture frame with thick, opaque glass in the centre. Healer Ticco instructed the Mediwitches,

"Hold the frame over the entire chest area; I want a reading from the throat to the stomach. Miss Black, if you'll just lie down."

Bellatrix felt the hospital bed recline then with a swish of Healer Ticco's wand, and Bellatrix steadied herself on her back as the bed moved. She stared at Mr Riddle for as long as she could until she had to look at the ceiling, and then she asked quietly,

"Will it hurt?"

"No," she heard Mr Riddle insist. "I've had them before; they don't hurt. You won't feel a thing."

His voice was so comforting, and Bellatrix's eyes burned to think that he was here with her. _Girlfriend_ , he'd said, or at least he'd assented to her thought of that idea. She wondered if he was inside her mind now. She hoped he was. If he was, he would know that she was thinking very highly of him, thinking that he was everything she wanted to follow.

"Place the frame over the chest now," said Healer Ticco, and Bellatrix trembled with her arms beside her as the Mediwitches brought the wooden frame up around her. Healer Ticco aimed his wand at the opaque glass in the centre, and he said in a low, thoughtful hum,

" _Ossium Revelio. Organum Revelio. Viscera, Carnicula Revelio._ "

Suddenly a large parchment fluttered up from the opaque glass in the centre of the frame, and it floated in the air for a while until an image developed upon it.

"Remove the frame," commanded Healer Ticco, and he plucked the image out of the air. He used his wand to raise Bellatrix's bed back up to sit, and he said to Bellatrix, "Please, give me a few moments to go read this image. I'll be back."

He left with the Mediwitches then, and Bellatrix was left alone with Mr Riddle. He came to sit in the chair again, pulling it up alongside the bed, and he held Bellatrix's hand.

"They're going to heal you," he insisted. "They're going to make you well."

"And if they can't?" Bellatrix asked. "I'll die just like the rest of my family."

She reached for her locket, the locket that held an image of her her mother, her father, her two sisters.

"No. Stop thinking like that. Now." Mr Riddle's voice was very stern then. Bellatrix looked to him, and his marled, stretched skin pulled oddly as his face twisted into an expression she'd never seen out of him. He shook his head. "You are going to serve me. You are going to be in my movement, Bellatrix, and you are going to be in my bed. I will not let you die. They are going to heal you."

"Miss Black."

Bellatrix turned to see the curtain slowly peeling back as Healer Ticco came walking back into the bay. He entered the bay very slowly, and when he shut the curtain, Mr Riddle rose and Banished the chair to the other side of the bay.

"Miss Black, I have… difficult news to share," said Healer Ticco, and Bellatrix's heart began to race. She panted a little, wheezing a bit, and she asked,

"I'm going to die, aren't I?"

Healer Ticco licked his lip carefully and stared at Mr Riddle, seeming very afraid of the wizard's reaction. Mr Riddle glared at the Healer.

"We are going to do absolutely everything we can for you," said Healer Ticco slowly, "but you will need to be inpatient here at the hospital for several weeks at minimum to receive intensive treatment, and then we can reassess whether…"

"Whether I'm going to die," Bellatrix said softly. Healer Ticco shut his eyes.

"After a few weeks of intensive treatment, Miss Black, we will reassess your prognosis. As of this moment, my assessment is… well, it's not good. The gas never fully left your lungs the day of the accident. You see, human lungs are comprised of many tiny pockets, and when you breathe out, it is possible for a contaminant to remain in those tiny pockets. The gas then seeped into the tissue of your lungs and began to break it down. Your lungs have sustained such incredible degradation that I am frankly shocked you've been able to climb a flight of stairs."

Bellatrix thought back over the last few months. She hadn't thought much of it, but she had begun to become breathless climbing the stairs up from the dungeons, or walking briskly through the corridors at school. It hadn't seemed like a major concern. She was just out of shape, she'd thought. Bellatrix chomped her lip and murmured,

"I've noticed it's been harder to… just to do things."

"There is fluid in the bottom half of both lungs; your breathing capacity is severely diminished," Healer Ticco said. "We can try anti-pneumonial potions, tissue and organ regenerative charms and serums, but all of that needs to be done under close supervision here, so -"

"Surgery?" interrupted Mr Riddle, and Bellatrix gasped, coughing a little, at the suggestion. Luckily, Healer Ticco tipped his head and mused,

"Risky. It would be a last resort. That would be our final option if potions and spells did not make sufficient progress within six weeks or so."

"So I'm not going back to school," Bellatrix realised, frowning. She hardly liked school, but was it better to lay dying in a hospital wing? She suddenly started to cry, her tears boiling over her eyes, and she heard Mr Riddle ask Healer Ticco,

"May we have a moment?"

"Of course," replied Healer Ticco, and he stepped quietly out of the bay. Mr Riddle walked over to the bed and crouched down, holding Bellatrix's hand and meeting her eyes. She sniffled and wheezed. He said firmly to her,

"You're going to be admitted into a ward here, Bellatrix, and you're to heal. You're going to get better from potions and spells, because you must get better, because you're going to be a servant in my movement, and I am going to need you. And you must get better, because I want you in my bed for many years to come, you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Bellatrix let him drag her tears away with his knuckles, and she listened as he continued,

"And I will be here every day to visit you," he promised her. "Every single day, I will come. I will bring you books and things to amuse you, and I will sit and talk with you. Every day. You understand?"

"Yes, sir." Bellatrix smiled weakly at him, and she promised him in a whisper, "I won't die. I won't. I've got people to kill for you."

He smirked and tucked her hair behind her ear, and then his voice was very, very soft so no one else could hear.

"You've got Cruciatus Curses to cast for me, you beautiful creature. Red webs of light to spin around my enemies. So you can't die."

"No, sir. I can't die." Bellatrix said.

"Healer Ticco," called Mr Riddle, "you may go ahead and take Miss Black up to the third floor whenever you like."

An hour later, Bellatrix was being changed by Mediwitches into a hospital gown behind curtains. Mr Riddle waited out on the main part of the third floor unit, which was for potions and plant poisoning. Bellatrix finally came out and was shown into her bed, where she was tucked comfortably. Mr Riddle murmured to the Mediwitches for privacy for a moment, and he drew the curtains around Bellatrix's bed. He stepped up to her and bent down, kissing her lips very carefully, and he whispered,

"Do you know something?"

"No. What?" Bellatrix hummed against his mouth, and as he pulled back, he reminded her,

"You're mine because I care for you. Deeply. So."

"I'm yours because I'm your servant, sir," Bellatrix promised him, and he nodded and started to walk out of the curtains, saying over his shoulder,

"They're going to heal you. I'll be back tomorrow."

 **Author's Note: Oh, dear. What she's got sounds awfully serious. But, then, Mr Riddle sounds awfully serious, too. What will Dumbledore's response be to hearing that Bellatrix isn't coming back to school and that it was Tom Riddle who took her to the hospital? Hmmm…**

 **Thanks as always for reading - please do review!**


	10. Chapter 10

"Oh, the taste is foul!" Bellatrix exclaimed, recoiling at the flavour of the Tissue Regrowth Serum. She gagged a little and nearly vomited. The taste was so profoundly bitter that she just couldn't take it, until finally a Mediwitch beside her held out a goblet and murmured,

"Sweet juice for you, to take away the awful taste, my dear. You'll need that serum three times a day, love."

Bellatrix gladly accepted the goblet, and she sipped deeply from the fruit juice inside. She gulped it down, and it did help erase some of the flavour. She handed the goblet back, and then she felt an awful pain in her lower chest.

"Ahhh… _Ahhhhh!_ " Bellatrix clutched at her chest, and the Mediwitch pushed her back onto her partially reclined bed by her shoulder.

"Hush, dear. You're going to have some pain as the tissue regrows. If we give you Anodyne Draught for the pain, the serum won't work. You'll just have to deal with the pain, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, my dear."

"But it stings!" Bellatrix breathed in and then gasped in horror at the feel of doing so. The very feel of air entering her lungs was like breathing fire, and she whimpered helplessly. She clutched her ribs and stared around the ward. Across from her bed, a wizard lay motionless in his bed - the victim of a Draught of Living Death overdose, she understood. In the next bed from him, a witch lay covered in some sort of awful boils. Bellatrix glanced toward the large window at the end of the unit and saw that it was raining outside in the London streets. She tried to distract herself from the pain in her chest as the Mediwitch packed up her rolling cart with the potions she'd brought.

This morning, Bellatrix had been dosed with anti-pneumonial potion intended to draw out the fluid in her lungs. She'd also been given a BronchoDilation Draught to open her airways and Strengthening Solution to give her body the ability to rebuild. Finally, she'd been dosed with Tissue Regrowth Serum. Now, the Mediwitch packed up her cart, and she pulled out her wand as she said,

"And now the Toxin Removal Charms, which we'll do three times per day. All of this will be done three times per day, my dear. A strict regimen to heal you."

"Yes, of course." Bellatrix buckled over from the pain, but she forced herself back and lay against the bed as she put her hands to her sides and stared up at the Mediwitch. "Ready."

The Mediwitch, a pretty blonde woman with a tiny waist beneath her crisp white apron, aimed her wand at Bellatrix and incanted carefully,

" _Trahendo Venenum_. _Trahendo Vapor. Trahendo Venenum. Trahendo Vapor. Trahendo Venenum. Trahendo Vapor."_

With every recitation of the spells, Bellatrix felt a little tug in her lungs. She felt the urge to cough, and she hacked painfully a few times.

"Have to bring it up, I'm afraid," the Mediwitch said. Once Bellatrix had coughed ten or twelve times, it subsided, and the Mediwitch handed Bellatrix a goblet of water. "Now," she said, "You rest. Healer's orders. Rest up. I'll be back round lunchtime to do all of this again. If you need anything, pull the rope beside your bed to summon us."

"Thanks." Bellatrix frowned deeply as she tipped her head back against the bed. She sighed and felt the sting and burn in her chest, and then she asked the Mediwitch, "When are visiting hours?"

"Five to eight this evening, dear," she answered. "We keep strict hours on this ward because it's high acuity. That means our patients are quite ill, and so we only have visitors three hours a day. Sorry."

"All right." Bellatrix shut her eyes, deciding to do as they'd commanded and rest.

* * *

He walked up to her bed at one minute past five. He had a parcel under one arm, wrapped in brown paper, and a fabric shopping bag on his other arm. He pulled up the visitor's chair beside Bellatrix's bed and sat at once, wandlessly drawing the curtains tightly round her bed and bending to kiss her lips gently.

"What treatments are they giving you?" he asked without pretense, and Bellatrix replied in a voice hoarse from all the forced coughing,

"They're drawing out the remnants of the gas with spellwork. They've done it three times today, most recently ten minutes ago."

He nodded. "And the potions?"

"Anti-pneumonial potion," she replied. "BronchoDilation Draught. Strengthening Solution. Tissue Regrowth Serum. I've received all of those three times, too."

He sighed deeply and nodded again. "Good. If they keep all of that up, they'll have you healed in no time, Bella."

"Are you certain?" Bellatrix's eyes welled a little. "The Mediwitch says I'm very ill."

"Well, you are very ill, but you're going to be better very soon," said Mr Riddle. He brought Bellatrix's knuckles to his lips, and he asked, "Have you had dinner yet?"

"No," she confessed. "I don't know why they put visiting hours during dinner hours. The House-Elves are bringing my food any minute."

"I'll watch you eat," he smirked, and Bellatrix laughed a little. She studied his face then, and a realisation came over her that frightened her.

She was falling in love with him.

His smile faded, and he just kissed her knuckles again, and she knew he'd been inside of her mind. They were serious and quiet for a long moment, until at last she gathered the courage to ask,

"What's in the parcel and the bag?"

"Oh." He handed her the box, which she shyly unwrapped. He Vanished the paper just like he'd done on Christmas with her wrapping paper, and when she opened the box, she saw a cosy-looking pair of black velvet slippers. She gasped and pulled them out, and Mr Riddle said,

"You're going to be stuck meandering to and from a bed for some time. I thought you might like to have something warm and fuzzy on your feet."

"But these are marvelous," Bellatrix mused, pulling them onto her bare feet beneath the blankets. They felt warm and comforting, and she reached for his face and held his cheek for a moment. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"It's nothing," he insisted. She wanted to tell him that it was everything, but he just blinked a few times and said, "I wrote to your grandparents. On both sides - the Blacks and the Rosiers. It's bad enough they've lost their children and grandchildren; they deserve to know that their remaining granddaughter is in hospital with a serious illness."

"And what did they say?" asked Bellatrix. Mr Riddle shrugged.

"Your Grandfather Pollux is a friend of mine, so to speak. He's a donor to the movement. So he wrote back to me at once. Asked me to keep him and your Grandmother Irma apprised of how you're doing. They're extremely concerned. The Rosiers, as you know, live in France, so I haven't heard back yet. But everyone's worried, Bella. I did… I… I wrote to Dumbledore."

Bellatrix's eyes went wide. "You wrote to Albus Dumbledore?"

He nodded. "I needed to -"

"Miss Bellatrix Black?"

Suddenly a House-Elf came round the curtain, carrying a wooden tray with a plate of food and a goblet of water, and Bellatrix sighed reluctantly. She let the Elf put the tray onto the sliding table that came over the bed, and once the House-Elf had left, she poked her fork at the sliced turkey with gravy, steamed peas, and mashed potato, and she turned to Mr Riddle.

"Want some?"

"No. Thank you," he said with a little smile. Bellatrix stabbed some turkey and cut a bite, and as she chewed, Mr Riddle finished explaining,

"I needed to let Dumbledore know that you weren't coming back to school."

"I could have done that," Bellatrix insisted, her mouth full of turkey. But Mr Riddle rolled his eyes and said,

"Dumbledore has eyes everywhere. I'm sure he already knew you were here, and I'm sure he already knew that I brought you here. Better communicate it all on my own terms. I told him to get your things from the Slytherin girls' dormitory and have them sent by Apparition Messenger to Malfoy Manor. I'll keep your trunk safe until you come home."

"Home." Bellatrix stared at him, and he tipped his head.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes." Bellatrix speared a few peas and ate them, and then suddenly she choked. She felt like she was inhaling the peas, and she coughed and hacked roughly on them. Mr Riddle flew to his feet and whipped out his wand.

" _Finite Strangulatio!"_

The peas flew out of Bellatrix's mouth and landed on her tray, and she coughed so hard she nearly vomited.

"What's going on in here?" The curtains whipped open, and a Healer in lime green robes appeared with a Mediwitch.

"She was choking on peas," Mr Riddle said. Bellatrix coughed harder than ever, until the Healer aimed his wand at her and incanted,

" _Finite Tussim. Patet Faucium._ "

Bellatrix's coughing quieted. The Healer - an elderly wizard called Healer Mills - said quietly to the Mediwitch,

"Clear her food tray and fetch more BronchoDilation Draught."

"Yes, Healer Mills." The Mediwitch came and took Bellatrix's tray away, and she supposed her dinner was over. Healer Mills asked Mr Riddle,

"Do you intend on staying the whole of the visiting hours, sir?"

"I'll do whatever is best for Bella." Mr Riddle sounded unnerved, but the Healer nodded and said,

"I think it best that you do stay all the way to eight o'clock, if you don't mind, sir. We'll get another dose of BronchoDilation Draught in her, and then I'd appreciate a pair of eyes directly on her for a few hours."

"Yes, of course." Mr Riddle slowly sank back down into his chair, and he rather brazenly took Bellatrix's hand right there in front of the Healer. The Mediwitch came back in and dosed Bellatrix with the sticky, grainy BronchoDilation Draught, and then she could feel her airways opening up a bit. She leaned back against the bed, feeling drowsy from the medication, and she said in a sorrowful voice to Mr Riddle,

"They've doubled me up on this stuff. Now I'm as loopy as can be. Sorry."

"I don't mind." He reached for the shopping bag he'd brought, and he asked her, "Have you got a preference? I've brought you a murder mystery, a sappy romance, and a history."

"Books." Bellatrix smiled a bit to herself, staring up at the ceiling. She felt so tired, and yet she was so happy. So, so happy. She turned her face slowly to look at Mr Riddle, quirking up half a grin at him, and she asked,

"You went into Flourish and Blotts on a rainy day just to bring me books?"

"Maybe I did." He tipped up his chin. "So. Will it be the mystery, the romance, or the history?"

"The murder mystery, to be certain," Bellatrix said gravely, and Mr Riddle smirked as he pulled a book out from the bag. He opened it, cleared his throat, and began to read.

" _Young Mr Sorkin was the envy of all Caddington, what with his extensive collection of high-quality broomsticks. But what Mr Sorkin did not know was that certain people had their eyes on his broomsticks, and jealousy can be one of humanity's strongest motivators."_

* * *

Two weeks later, she was worse.

She didn't know how it was possible for all the potions, all the spells to be doing less than nothing, but there she was, lying in her bed, worse.

"I don't understand," said Mr Riddle one day when he came to visit. He'd demanded to speak with Healer Mills when he'd come for visiting hours, because Bellatrix was now a disastrous mess. She was white-faced, she knew, for he'd Conjured a mirror to show her how awful she looked. When she breathed, there was a rattle and a growl with each breath. Her coughing came in fits now, strong, terrible fits that occasionally brought up stringy, bloody messes.

"How is she _worse?_ " demanded Mr Riddle angrily, and Healer Mills admitted,

"The spells intended to draw out the remnants of the gas are not doing so. We performed another imagery yesterday, and we found that the damage is worsening and continuing. Her symptoms are getting worse because the damage is getting worse, and we are unable to stop the damage."

"But you _must_ stop the damage!" growled Mr Riddle. A crackle of magic snapped in the air around him, his power let loose by anger. Healer Mills seemed afraid as he said,

"We are doing absolutely everything we know how to do."

"Then you are incompetent fools!" yelled Mr Riddle. "I _need_ you to save this witch's life. Do you understand me? Do you understand the consequences if she… if…"

"Please," croaked Bellatrix from the bed. Mr Riddle looked over his shoulder at her, pinching his lips. He shook his head firmly and huffed,

"I could heal her with a Coalesco Amalgam."

"Sir," scoffed Healer Mills in disbelief, "Those… Dark… spells are remarkably dangerous for both parties and carry permanent consequences. We do not advocate them here, and we do not perform them here."

"Wait. What's a Coalesco… a what?" Bellatrix sat up slowly in her bed and coughed a few times.

"A Coalesco Amalgam," pronounced Mr Riddle, "is one where the bodily strength of one person rejuvenates a dying person. In exchange, the soul of the dying person is bound in many complicated ways to the soul of the person who gave them life."

"It is a terrible idea!" insisted Healer Mills.

"Your damned potions and charms are doing less than nothing! She is dying!" snarled Mr Riddle. "She is of age. Let her decide! Death here in your hospital bed, or the consequences of a Coalesco Amalgam with me."

Bellatrix didn't even hesitate for a moment before she looked Mr Riddle straight in the eye and said in her hoarse voice,

"I choose you."

 **Author's Note: So, he's not willing to let her die. But just what are these complicated ways in which her soul will be bound to his? And we still haven't heard from Dumbledore… hm… I would REALLY appreciate it if you get a quick second to leave your feedback - I really do want to know what you think of this story! Thanks!**


	11. Chapter 11

Bellatrix lay in her bed at Malfoy Manor, staring at the ceiling and waiting for Mr Riddle to come back. He was off talking with Abraxas Malfoy, explaining what had happened.

 _I can not adequately express how vehemently I oppose this discharge,_ Healer Mills had said at St Mungo's, and Mr Riddle had replied,

 _You've done your best. Now let me do mine._

He'd carefully brought her back to Malfoy Manor by Side-Along Apparition, cradling her in his arms, and he'd carried her up to her quarters. They'd gotten her into a nightgown, out of the horrid hospital gown, and had settled her into the bed.

Now the door from the corridor opened and Mr Riddle came walking back in, wearing nothing but a black tunic with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and a pair of linen trousers. He approached Bellatrix's bed, and he sat on the edge near her as he said quietly,

"I suppose you'll want to know more about what I intend on doing to save you."

She coughed ten or twelve times in response. Mr Riddle waited for the fit to pass, and then he Conjured her a handkerchief, for she'd brought up some blood. She wiped it from her lips gratefully and listened as he said,

"The Coalesco Amalgam is, as Healer Mills accused, Dark magic. I learnt about it during my studies of Soul magic on the Continent. It is not illegal, strictly speaking, but it is a widely feared notion because it binds two souls together, and that concept frightens people."

"How does it work?" Bellatrix croaked from where she sat propped against the pillows. Mr Riddle sighed and picked at his trouser leg.

"One person is dying. Another person gives them life. In order for this to happen, the two physical bodies must be intrinsically united. There are desperately vile ways for this to occur… cannibalism, for example."

"We're going to eat each other?" Bellatrix felt horror strike her through, but Mr Riddle choked a laugh and looked up at her. He shook his head and said simply,

"Sex."

She coughed roughly and pointed out, "I'm not in the best shape for sex, am I?"

"I'll be gentle," he insisted. "Our bodies must be together. It's the most pleasant way, even given your condition."

"All right," she nodded, and she coughed again for a long moment. Once the fit passed, she realised there was blood all over her hands, and she gasped. Mr Riddle hurried to Siphon and Scour the blood away, but she looked up at him in terror and murmured, "I really am dying."

"Well, we're not going to let that happen. Once the bodies are united, the Giver of Life - that's me - incants the spells needed to share physical strength and bring back life to the dying party. Luckily for you, I learnt these spells on the Continent, and I remember them."

"Will you be weaker then?" asked Bellatrix worriedly, but Mr Riddle shook his head with confidence.

"No. Because this is an exchange. I give you Life, and you become bound to me. You will never be able to be sexual with anyone else. You will never be able to marry anyone else. You will never be able to follow the orders of anyone else. You will never feel loyalty toward anyone else. And all of these things, you will likely feel very strongly toward me - attraction, devotion, loyalty. Most importantly, if someday I were to perish, you would fall in the same instant."

"So when you die, I'll die," Bellatrix nodded. Mr Riddle tipped his head.

"You don't have to worry about that bit."

"What, are you immortal or something?" Bellatrix joked, coughing a bit. Mr Riddle cleared his throat.

"Something like that."

She narrowed her eyes, confused. Immortal? He seemed serious about it, too. "More Dark magic?" she asked.

"More Dark magic," he affirmed, and Bellatrix just blinked a few times.

"Does that mean I'll be immortal, too?"

"No. You could still be slain in battle, or die of another disease," Mr Riddle said, sounding rather frustrated. "Believe me; I wish it worked that way. Now, there are other… consequences… of the binding. But I don't know what they are. My teacher on the Continent didn't elaborate on everything. So we'll have to learn some of it along the way. But I believe this is a price worth paying to save your life, Bella."

"I can't believe you're doing this for me," she whispered hoarsely, and he said in a low sort of snarl,

"It isn't just for you."

"Right." Bellatrix sighed and lay back, muttering, "Ready for the sex bit whenever you are."

Mr Riddle huffed a breath and unlaced his linen trousers where he sat. He finally rose and came to walk around the bed, slowly climbing up and lying beside Bellatrix. She coughed violently where she lay, knowing she was hardly attractive like this, and she was ashamed to hear Mr Riddle murmur an _Erecto_ charm on himself beside her.

"Come here, please," he said, pulling at her carefully. She hiked up her nightgown, and she whispered desperately,

"I'm dry. I'm sorry."

" _Lubrico._ " His fingers coursed over her folds as he cast the lubrication charm, and she was grateful for the way he paid no heed to her coughing and shaking as he pushed into her. He began to pump his cock in and out, and it felt strange, this sex with no desire. Ordinarily, she'd have wanted him badly, but tonight felt so bizarre. She shut her eyes and tried to breathe, wheezing awfully as he thrust into her, and then she heard him say from behind her,

"I'm going to incant the charms now. Ready?"

"Yes." She choked out the word, and then he began to murmur,

" _Dabo tibi animam. Dabo tibi fortitudinem. Dabo tibi salutem. Dabo tibi animam. Dabo tibi fortitudinem. Dabo tibi salutem._ "

She tried to make sense of the spells he was repeating. Life. Strength. Health. He continued,

" _Coalesco, Coalesco. Anima Mea, Animam Tuam. Mulier, Servus Mea In Perpetua. Coalesco, Coalesco._ "

Suddenly everything went black and cold and empty, and Bellatrix gasped. She felt like she had hit her head on a rock. She blinked her eyes open to see that she was on a beach. It was a cold, empty beach with large black rocks and huge crashing grey waves. She pulled herself to her feet, and as she looked around, she saw a cloaked black figure standing on the rocks in the distance. She began to walk toward the figure, then to run when she realised it was him. Lord Voldemort.

"Sir!" she called, and he slowly turned, pulling down his hood. He was more handsome here - his scars were less pronounced. He climbed slowly down from the rocks and approached Bellatrix on the sand as waves crashed nearby. Bellatrix shivered in the wind. "Where are we?"

"We're in your mind," he said simply. "We'll be out soon."

Bellatrix studied his face, his eyes, and she whimpered a little as she realised she could tell him here what she'd been too much of a coward to tell him in person for weeks.

"I'm in love with you."

"I know you are," he said with a warm little smile. He held her face in his hands and whispered, "You are such a good girl."

"Is there any chance…" Bellatrix's eyes seared. "Could you ever love me back?"

Voldemort sighed heavily and reminded her, "I am giving life of my life. Isn't that enough?"

"Yes, of course, Master," she replied, and the word felt so natural that she hardly noticed she'd said it. He leaned down to kiss her, feeling warm and whole and everything, and then when he pulled away, he said quietly,

"It's time to come back now. To wake up. Shut your eyes, Bella."

She did as he said, and when she did, she felt her ears ring, felt a rushing sensation. She blinked a few times and found herself lying on her back on the bed in Malfoy Manor. It was morning; there was light streaming in through the windows. Lord Voldemort was dressed and pacing beside the bed, and he did not seem to notice that Bellatrix had awakened. He chewed anxiously at a thumbnail as he paced. Bellatrix breathed in and realised just how easy it was to do, just how little effort it took. There was no wheeze.

She was healed.

"Master," she said gently, and he whirled. He stared right at her, seemingly in shock at the word she'd just used. Bellatrix sat up slowly, pushing her curls from her eyes, and she grinned. He laughed, giddy, and rushed over to the bed, crouching down beside her and crushing her mouth with his as he seized her face in his hands. Bellatrix felt a surge of love for him, of admiration and devotion and all the things he'd said she'd feel. And love. She pulled back and wanted to tell him, wanted him to know. She blinked a few times and just nodded.

"Thank you, Master."

Voldemort touched his forehead to hers and whispered, "There will be battles, Bella. And you'll fight in them for me. Won't you?"

"I will live my life for you, Master," she replied, and he kissed her again, more deeply this time.

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter, but we had a lot going on here! So, we have some vocabulary changes after this binding. And definitely an amping up of devotion. How will this affect things now that Bellatrix is home from school but also healthy? And what are the other side effects of the binding? Mwah hahahaha.**


	12. Chapter 12

"Sorry; I need… need to taste you." Voldemort broke away from kissing Bellatrix, and she gasped a little in surprise.

"What?" She didn't understand what he meant. He sat back on his haunches and started pulling blankets down, started arranging himself between Bellatrix's legs. She pulled herself up on her elbows. "What are you doing, Master?"

"Tasting you," he announced, and he shoved up the skirts of her nightgown. Bellatrix yelped then, shocked by the way he bent down with a hand on each of her knees and touched his mouth to the sacred place between her thighs. Was he really going to kiss her _there_? She sucked in air hard and arched her back, liberated into easy breathing by his curative magic. She let her head tip back then, for she could feel his tongue, flat and dragging, and she liked it.

Oh, she liked it. She moaned, grasping at the sheets. He dragged his tongue again, and then over and over until Bellatrix squirmed and bucked her hips against his mouth. He groaned onto her, shoving his mouth roughly against her. He suckled on her clit, which made her writhe on the sheets and throw her head back helplessly against the pillow. She chomped her lip hard through the sensation of him licking and then sucking, licking and then sucking. It was so much to handle, and she just lay there like a useless being, stiff and clutching as she gasped for air.

"Bella." His voice was a low growl against her womanhood, and it set her over the edge. Bellatrix wrenched her eyes shut and came, her walls clenching around his lips as she felt her body flush hot. As the pleasure peaked and then faded, she panted - comfortably - and then watched as Lord Voldemort sat back up onto his knees. He was breathing hard as he dragged his wrist over his mouth. He came to lie beside Bellatrix on the bed, and he started to unlace his trousers where he arranged himself on his back.

"It'll only take a moment," he mumbled, and she asked meekly,

"May I help?"

"Touch me," he whispered, and Bellatrix's eyes fluttered as she pulled him out of his trousers. He was throbbing, obviously painfully erect, and she began to caress his cock with her fingertips as she stared down at him and whispered,

"I didn't know a wizard could give a witch pleasure like that."

"Hmmm." He shut his eyes and arched up a little. "Play with the tip. Yes. Like that. Just… oh. I'm going to come."

He wasn't kidding, either. It only took a moment of her fluttering her hands around his length and then massaging his tip before he clutched at his own cock and burrowed his head back against the pillow, growling softly. His come leaped up in creamy white ropes that landed all over his black tunic, but he didn't seem to mind the mess. He huffed as his climax took him over, and when it had passed him by, he reached for his wand and muttered spells to clean himself up - both from the come and in his mouth. He set his wand down and turned to face Bellatrix, and he informed her crisply,

"I was there with you."

"Wh-where?" She was confused now. He gave her a serious look and raised his eyebrows.

"On the beach with the black rocks. In your mind. I was there with you."

Bellatrix's mouth dropped open. How had he been there with her in a dream state, inside her mind? That seemed bizarre. She frowned, and then she realised something.

"You heard me say…"

"As if I did not already know," he scoffed, tucking her hair behind her ear. As if he didn't already know that she loved him. She sniffed a little and whispered,

"Are you angry with me?"

"Angry. No." He shook his head and shut his eyes. "I feel for you, this morning, powerful sensations, Bella. Strong and unyielding want. Desire. And, yes, adoration. Something unfamiliar to me. Something I have never before experienced. I do not know what to make of it, what to do with it. But we are bound, you and I, and there can never be any undoing it. I do not suppose I would want to undo it."

Bellatrix let out a shaking breath, unsure of what to say to any of that. But then Voldemort opened his eyes, and he noted,s,

"You have been calling me _Master._ You can't do that in front of the others. Not yet. They are not so ready as you. I must still be Tom Riddle to you in front of -"

"But you are not Tom Riddle," Bellatrix interrupted him. "You are very much more than Tom Riddle. Aren't you?"

"You know that, and I know that," he nodded. "The others will be ready soon. Call me _sir_ until then."

"Yes, sir," Bellatrix nodded, and she felt a strong pull to do exactly what he wanted. A need to obey. He leaned toward her and kissed her cheekbone.

"Let's go eat some breakfast. I'm famished."

* * *

"Miss Black, I am pleasantly astounded to see you looking so well this morning," said Abraxas Malfoy at the breakfast table. Jessamyn Malfoy nodded and reached for her husband's hand.

"We have been so worried over you, my dear," she said. "Ever since the night Tom first took you to St Mungo's, we have fretted. And when we heard that you were getting worse, not better, our tears flowed freely."

"But magic is good and powerful." Abraxas Malfoy nodded vigorously and set down his fork and knife. "A Coalesco Amalgam. Truly, Mr Riddle. Genius. To think of such a thing, and to be willing to employ it in the service of improving Miss Black. Genius and also unfathomably compassionate."

"I assure you, we have both benefitted," Voldemort smirked. He turned his head to Bellatrix and squeezed at her shoulder a little. "For my part, I am only glad to see Bella well again. It pained me terribly when she was unwell."

"Yes, of course," said Jessamyn Malfoy.

"Miss Bellatrix Black?" Dobby the House-Elf came scuttering into the dining room with a letter perched upon a silver tray. He walked slowly up to Bellatrix and held the tray up, bowing his head. "This came for you by owl, Miss. Just now."

"Hmm." Bellatrix frowned and plucked the letter off the tray. She examined it and noticed the wax seal. "Hogwarts."

"It's from Dumbledore," Voldemort murmured, and Bellatrix sighed as she broke the seal and opened the envelope. She pulled out the letter inside and read it to herself, making sense of Dumbledore's ornate, spindly script.

 _Dear Miss Black,_

 _I have received word from friends at St Mungo's Hospital that you left against medical advice, with plans to undergo a Coalesco Amalgam. I can not stress highly enough the importance of avoiding Dark magic such as this. While we may fear unfavourable outcomes, Magical medicine is the best way to treat illness. Dark magic is no way to approach a situation like yours._

 _I beg you to meet with me in person, Miss Black, to discuss your future. Yes, your future. You see, I have confidence that medicine can and will cure your awful condition, given the time and space to do its good work. We can arrange for you to sit your NEWTs privately so that you might have a career after graduation. All is not lost. Do not allow yourself to be lost._

 _To nearly every poison, Miss Black, there is an antidote. To every Darkness, there is a light._

 _Write to me and name the time and place for a meeting. I shall take it on your terms._

 _Albus Dumbledore_

Bellatrix scoffed loudly and handed the letter over to Lord Voldemort. He read it quickly and then folded it up, Vanishing it wandlessly. Abraxas and Jessamyn Malfoy looked curious, so Voldemort just said,

"He writes to warn her against the terrible Dark magic of a Coalesco Amalgam."

"Well, it's a little late," said Mrs Malfoy in a bite, "and it saved her life. What does he know?"

"Nothing," Abraxas Malfoy said dismissively. "Dumbledore knows nothing. Let's finish our breakfast, shall we?"

* * *

"So you don't think I should take my NEWTs?" Bellatrix asked, pacing around the coral-coloured parlour later that afternoon. Voldemort folded his arms and stared at her like she was mad.

"Do you want to take your NEWTs?"

She shrugged, her eyes watering a little. "Narcissa and Andromeda didn't get to finish their educations. I don't like the idea of being a… a dropout."

"You had a medical situation," Voldemort snapped, but Bellatrix countered,

"I'm better now. I could get five or six NEWTs without revising. Easily."

"To what end? You intend on working for the Ministry?" Voldemort asked in disbelief. Bellatrix was silent. She sank into an armchair and whispered,

"I will do as you will. Master."

There was a very long moment of quiet, and then finally Voldemort came to sit opposite her.

"Dumbledore is a Legilimens," he said. "I don't want him seeing into your mind. There's far too much valuable scenery in there these days."

"I understand," Bellatrix said numbly, but Voldemort sighed and said,

"If you really want to sit your exams, then we'll spend the next few weeks training you as an Occlumens. You'll have a protected mind, and you can get the marks you want to top off your education. Understood?"

Bellatrix snapped her face toward Voldemort, feeling her features light up. She grinned broadly and nodded.

"Master. You are merciful and fair."

"I am trying to be practical," he argued, but Bellatrix wanted to throw her arms around his shoulders and kiss him.

So she did.

 **Author's Note: Sorry for another short chapter, but the next chapter is OCCLUMENCY TRAINING TIME and I wanted to give it its own chapter. I'm so looking forward to this. Hehehehehe.**


	13. Chapter 13

"Remind me, Master, why we are doing this in bed," Bellatrix said in a shaking voice from where she lay on her back in Lord Voldemort's stout dark four-poster. He curled up alongside her in his own pyjamas and said,

"The process of learning to close one's mind involves a great deal of focus. It doesn't come immediately. So I want you to be comfortable. I think your mind will be most open to acquiring this skill if you are physically comfortable."

"Yes, sir." Bellatrix tried to relax on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and she murmured, "What are we going to do?"

"Well." Voldemort pushed himself up onto an elbow and began to play with Bellatrix's hair. She shivered a little and smiled at him, and he quirked up half his mouth. "Tell me what you feel right now. Physically and emotionally."

Bellatrix licked her lip and stared right at Voldemort as she breathed slowly and said,

"I feel the blankets around me. I feel comfort being near you. I feel anticipation in learning this skill. Fear I'll fail you."

"Hmm." Voldemort tipped his head. "Now take all of that - every last bit of that emotion and sensation - and eradicate it."

Bellatrix furrowed her brows. "How, Master?"

"Banish those feelings away," he commanded her, as though it were a matter simply done. "Box them up and send them off. Empty your mind. Become vacuous. Shut your eyes and try it now."

Bellatrix frowned deeply as she folded her hands over her stomach. She did as he said and closed her eyes. Then she literally imagined packing up the idea of feeling comfortable around him and putting it into a box. She shoved it roughly away inside her head. She huffed. This wasn't working; her head was full of -

" _Legilimens._ "

 _"How could I ever thank you?"_

 _"Promise you'll be there when the movement grows," he replied, and she raised her eyes and nodded._

 _"I promise."_

 _She clutched the locket in her hand and edged toward him on the sofa, pushing her face toward his as she murmured,_

 _"Happy Christmas, sir."_

 _"Happy Christmas, Bellatrix," he said back, and this time when he kissed her, he didn't stop._

"Box up all those emotions, Bellatrix; you're wide open to me," she heard him say. She frantically tried to stuff away what she was feeling. Gratitude. Nostalgia. Love. Admiration. Warmth. She yanked the feelings away and shoved them into boxes in her mind.

"Good," he told her. "I feel it. Good. _Legilimens._ "

 _"Did you come to dance with me?"_

 _"No. I came to take you back to your rooms," he said rather sternly. "If you stay, you're going to make a fool of yourself or get sick or injured. You had four drinks in an hour. I think your party is over."_

 _She wanted to argue with him, but he'd told her to obey him. She was going to follow him. She was going to be part of his movement. She had to do what he said. So she nodded and asked,_

 _"May I walk out on your arm to keep me steady?"_

 _"Of course," he nodded. He extended his arm, and Bellatrix wrapped her hand up around his forearm. She ignored the stares of her fellow Slytherins and the other party guests as she stumbled badly, led out of the ballroom by the constant and proud Tom Riddle. When they were out in the corridor, she mumbled,_

 _"I have no idea how I'm going… going to climb stairs… in heels right now."_

"Bellatrix, box up those emotions! I can feel them all plainly; you're like an open book!" scolded Voldemort, and Bellatrix whimpered as she tried to identify and isolate the emotions. She'd felt nervousness, sickness, dizziness, confusion, gratefulness. Shove them all away, she thought, and she pushed them into mental boxes.

 _Without another word, he brought one arm under her legs and swept her off the ground, making her squeal with surprise as he curled her up into his arms. He cradled her as he hurried over to the winding stone staircase, and as he climbed, Bellatrix mused,_

 _"You're so strong. Happy birthday. Can I say it now?"_

 _"Yes, you can say it now," he replied. Bellatrix reached up to hold his marled face in her palm, and she whispered again,_

 _"Happy birthday. I never did go shopping. Wasn't sure I was meant to."_

 _"I don't need presents," he said as he walked down to the upstairs corridor. He passed his own quarters, and then Bellatrix asked,_

 _"Are you angry with me that I got drunk?"_

"Try harder, Bellatrix!" cried Voldemort. "Clear your mind. Emptiness!"

Bellatrix gulped and pushed. She shoved him out of her head as hard as she could. She imagined a great wide nothing, no emotion, and she growled to herself. Still the memory played out in her head.

 _"No, I'm not angry." Mr Riddle walked up to Bellatrix's chambers and set her down._

 _"Is she all right?" asked the painting behind them, the mother with the baby, and Bellatrix mumbled,_

 _"I'm fine."_

 _"You'll see yourself inside all right?" Mr Riddle asked, but Bellatrix stared up at him, bleary-eyed, and shrugged helplessly. Why wouldn't he take things further? Why only kisses?He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his crooked nose as he said,_

 _"I could never do anything to you now, Bellatrix; you're utterly drunk. It'd be… it isn't the right way, you understand."_

"NO!" Bellatrix gasped and mentally pushed as hard as she could, and suddenly there was a rushing sensation.

"Well done!" exclaimed Voldemort. Bellatrix blinked quickly and sat up. She turned to look at Voldemort, who was sitting and smiling at her. "That was very well done."

"Was it really?" she asked. "I want to make you proud."

"You pushed me out," he said. "The ultimate goal is for you to create a situation where no one can get in at all. But for you to push me out on your very first go? That's real skill, Bella. Of course I'm proud. I'm always proud of you."

She stared at him at that, at the idea that he was proud of her, and her eyes welled.

"I want to try again."

"Good. Push me out again. Emptiness and then push," he said. "Ready?"

"Ready," Bellatrix nodded, and she adjusted herself where she sat. She met his eyes as he whispered,

" _Legilimens._ "

 _Bellatrix combed through Narcissa's beautiful blonde hair. Narcissa stared into her mirror and said gently,_

" _I think I'm in love with him."_

" _Don't be silly, Cissy; you're much too young for love," Bellatrix laughed, dragging the comb through Narcissa's waves. "You've got all the time in the world for love."_

" _What if it's true love?" Narcissa asked. Bellatrix coughed a laugh and shrugged._

" _All right. You're in love with Lucius Malfoy."_

Bellatrix took all the grief and sorrow she was feeling and shoved it aside. She huffed a breath and pushed as hard as she could until the presence, the invasion in her head, eked out and slipped away.

"Yes! Well done!" Voldemort said happily. Then his smile faded, and he said carefully, "I did not mean to grasp a memory of Narcissa."

"It's all right, Master," Bellatrix said softly. "Let's go again."

"All right." Voldemort nodded crisply. " _Legilimens._ "

Bellatrix was suddenly thrown into blackness, into a dark whirling feeling, and she was slammed to the ground. She coughed and spluttered, and when she sat up, she found herself in an autumnal-looking forest. She was on a leaf-covered ground, and when she pulled herself up to stand, she realised she was wearing an ethereal, silky white gown. She frowned and looked around.

"Master?"

"Bellatrix!"

She turned, leaves crunching beneath her slippered feet, and she went toward the sound of his voice. She wrapped her arm around a tree as she passed, and then she saw him walking toward her in the forest.

"Master." She started running toward him, but she tripped on her long white skirts. He approached and helped her stand, and then he stared down at her and smiled a little.

"Are we in my mind again?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Our minds," he corrected. "It happened with a Legilimency effort; our bound souls linked up somehow and our minds melded together. We are still in the bed. I can tell."

"Master," Bellatrix reached to hold his hands. She shut her eyes and whispered, "Somehow, I feel safe here with you."

"You're going to kill for me," he reminded her, and she opened her eyes to look up at him. Her curls blew around her as the leaves rustled, and she nodded.

"I'm going to kill for you."

Voldemort sighed and studied her face. "You and I are together here. One mind. We are of one mind here."

"Are we? Of one mind?" Bellatrix leaned against his chest. She burrowed against his sternum and breathed him in, and he kissed the top of her head.

"I find I do not mind being in this forest," he mumbled, and Bellatrix pulled back, staring up at him and pressing her hands to his cheeks. She went up on her toes, feeling her white silk skirts and her hair billow around her, and he bent down to kiss her. He was warm here, and so comfortable, and she whispered against his lips,

"I really am in love with you."

"I know you are," he murmured back. He held her waist and stared down at her for a long moment as he informed her, "You make me experience terrible, wonderful things, Bellatrix Black. I still don't know what to do with those things. I… don't know what to do with you."

"Just be with me," she whispered, her skirts whipping in the wind as the leaves tore from the twigs and blew round them. "Just command me. Teach me. Touch me."

"Yes." He pinched his lips and snared his fingers into her hair as he bent to kiss her carefully. "I will teach you. And you will take your exams. Now, let's go back to bed."

"How?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort kissed her again as he hummed,

"Open your eyes and come with me."

Bellatrix blinked her eyes open, and she found herself lying on her back in the bed, wrapped up in Voldemort's arms. She breathed in deeply and rotated to face him, and she stared at him through the dim light in the room.

"How did our minds connect like that?" she asked, and he licked his lip as he admitted,

"I don't know. I suspect this is one of the side effects of the Coalesco Amalgam that I wasn't anticipating."  
"The ability to escape to some sort of other dimension together?" Bellatrix frowned, confused. She touched at Voldemort's face, and he shrugged.

"I do not fully understand it, Bellatrix. I'm sorry."

"Do you think I'll be able to get my mind protected from Albus Dumbledore before taking my NEWTs?" Bellatrix asked, and he smiled a little as he nodded.

"Yes." He sounded confident. "You have a gifted mind in many ways, and this is no exception. You did an excellent job of pushing me out, and next time we'll work on preemptive blocking techniques so that someone can't even read your memories and thoughts in the first place. You'll get there quickly. I know you will."

Bellatrix pinched her lips. "You want me to have control. Control is important to you."

He sat up slowly. "What are you getting at?"

"We don't have control over that other dimension that we enter." Bellatrix sat up with him, and she pointed out, "Both times it's happened, it has been a spontaneous event in the middle of other magic. First during the Coalesco Amalgam itself, and then when you tried to enter my mind through Legilimency. It's a pleasant experience, but it's unnerving, too, isn't it? It's frightening."

He licked his lip and scratched at his hair. "Yes. It's unnerving. I'm not sure how to make those travels stop, and even if I could, I don't know that I would. I don't know what to do about it, Bella."

"What if it happened at the breakfast table, and we just collapsed whilst we vanished off to some -"

"Enough," he snarled, sounding angry. "I do not wish to speak more of it tonight. I do not wish to think more on it. Enough! You have worked hard. Now go to sleep."

Bellatrix felt a powerful urge to obey him, not to argue but to do precisely as he commanded her. He was her master now; she was his servant. She sighed and asked gently,

"Shall I return to my quarters, Master?"

"No. Stay here with me," he said sharply. "Lie down and go to sleep."

Bellatrix did as he said, lying down and shutting her eyes, and she was suddenly profoundly drowsy as she obeyed, going to sleep. Just before she drifted off, she whispered,

"Goodnight, Master."

"Goodnight, Bellatrix," he said, and she felt him lying down beside her. His arm wrapped around her, and she breathed in the feel of him as the world faded from her.

 **Author's Note: Oh, dear. So, she's skilled with Occlumency, which is good, but this side effect of the binding seems like it's beautiful but could present some problems, no? Anyone else intrigued by the vision of Voldemort and Bellatrix just collapsing while their minds vanish off to a beautiful forest? Huh. Would love to know your thoughts! Thanks!**


	14. Chapter 14

_By 1864, the conditions in Muggle London had grown so significantly dire that Webby Stewart began to use magic to interfere. She entered Muggle workhouses and charmed the food to be more nutritious, the beds to be warmer, and the work to be less strenuous. For her magical interventions into difficult Muggle life, Webby Stewart was both praised and reviled. Some said she was doing great deeds at a time of immense Muggle suffering. They asserted she was using her magic for a good and righteous purpose. Others claimed that Stewart had no right to intervene, because she was putting the Magical community at great risk of exposure._

"What are you reading?" asked Lord Voldemort, and Bellatrix looked up from her armchair, gently shutting her thick tome.

"Just some last-minute revising for History of Magic," she said, and Voldemort choked out a little laugh.

"Revising the day of the exam? That _is_ last-minute." He came to sit opposite her, and Bellatrix nervously drummed her fingers on the history book.

"D'you suppose I'll be all right?" she asked, and he nodded vigorously.

"You'll pass with flying colours."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, do you suppose I'll be able to keep my mind blocked from him? From Dumbledore?"

"Ah." Voldemort folded his hands in his lap and stared rather proudly at Bellatrix, as though she were some creation he'd made with his own hand, something he'd crafted or moulded himself. Bellatrix smiled weakly at him, and he told her, "You, my dear, have spent these last weeks working more diligently on Occlumency than I could have imagined. And the results astound me. Your mind is impenetrable, even to me, and I like to think of myself as rather a gifted Legilimens. Perhaps among the strongest Legilimens in the world. If you can keep me out at all times, Bellatrix, you can keep out Albus Dumbledore's prying mind. You are strong. Never let anyone try to tell you otherwise. You are beautifully strong."

Bellatrix felt like she was going to cry at that. She blinked rapidly and whispered in a helpless voice,

"Master…"

These last weeks between them had seen them grow closer than ever. They spent a lot of time lying in bed and escaping into that other dimension, for they'd figured out a way to control it. They could go there if they both simply agreed to do so. And so they'd close their eyes, lying on their backs, holding hands, and they'd escape off to a summer meadow, where they'd kiss and make love among flowers. They would wake and make love in the bed.

Make love.

That was how Bellatrix always thought of it, though of course it was just sex to him. She knew that, but to her it was making love. She always kissed him until her lips bruised, and that always felt good.

In the daytime, they worked on her Occlumency and she revised for exams. Whilst she revised, he went off and had meetings about funding, about recruiting, about spreading his message. One meeting had had ten people, he'd said, and he'd been so excited afterward that he'd taken Bellatrix's body up against the wall in his sitting room.

Today she was taking the first of her NEWTs, and she was awfully nervous about the exam itself on top of the meetup with Dumbledore. But seeing Dumbledore was hardly going to be comfortable, and she asked Voldemort,

"Do you think I'll manage all on my own?"

"Well, you don't have to worry about that," he said primly, "because you're not going to be on your own. I'm coming with you, as an escort."

"An escort?" Bellatrix threw up her eyebrows. "But you are not my guardian, and I am of age."

He tipped his head. "Your health is still entirely too delicate for you to be Apparating to Hogsmeade by yourself, Miss Black."

"Oh, it is, is it?" she giggled, and he nodded gravely. Bellatrix's laughter faded, and she inquired, "Is this because you're afraid he'll try to sway me against you? As though I could ever be swayed."

"It is because I do not trust the man around you," Voldemort said simply, "and I think it really is as simple as that. I'll take you to the Three Broomsticks by Side-Along Apparition and stay with you as long as the old bastard lets me. And then, no matter what, I'll be close by. All right?"

She felt very much more secure with the idea of him being near, so she nodded. Soon enough, it was time for them to leave, and Bellatrix dressed in her Slytherin school uniform as Albus Dumbledore had requested by owl, since she'd likely be taking her exams in the castle. She was, after all, still technically an enroled Hogwarts student who had not yet graduated.

"I dislike the look of you in that uniform," Voldemort said as he paced in her sitting room. Bellatrix frowned as she did up her tie, and she asked,

"Why, Master?"

"It makes me feel very old," he confessed, "the idea of you being a schoolgirl. I do not care for the notion. I want you as my soldier, not as some seventh-year with her nose buried in homework. It's unseemly, a wizard my age with a girl like you."

"I find I do not much care for what is unseemly, Master," Bellatrix laughed, and she pulled her robe on. As she did up the toggle, he came walking into her bedroom and stood behind her, and he stared at her in the mirror.

"You are mine," he said very confidently, and she gave a firm nod. She pushed her curls back over her shoulders and affirmed,

"I am yours. In every way."

"I think," he said very carefully, stepping up behind her and putting her hands on her shoulders, "that I am, in a manner of speaking, yours, as well. I think there is a part of me that belongs to you, Bellatrix, and I do not suppose there is anything to be done about that. And I think the part of me that is yours grows more substantial by the day."

Her eyes watered heavily, and she reached up to cover his hand with hers.

"Are you angry about this?" she asked, but he shook his head and said,

"Not as angry as I should be, no. Let's go. You've got a History of Magic NEWT to take."

* * *

"Ah. Miss Black. And… Tom. I wish I were more surprised to see _you_ here." Albus Dumbledore wandlessly pushed back the two chairs opposite him in The Three Broomsticks and sipped from his Butterbeer. Bellatrix and Voldemort sat, and Dumbledore asked warmly,

"Miss Black. How have you been feeling?"

"Much improved, sir. Thank you," she replied simply. Dumbledore glanced between Voldemort and Bellatrix, and he narrowed his pale eyes behind his half-moon spectacles.

"I take it that you did not heed my advice regarding the Coalesco Amalgam."

"She would have died, Dumbledore," Voldemort snapped. "Left to the Healers, she'd be dead right now. I saved her life. Is that worth nothing to you?"

Dumbledore sighed. "We should never turn to such catastrophically Dark magic in order to -"

"Save the lectures, if you please," Voldemort quipped, crossing his arms over his chest. "She is alive and well now, here to take her exams."

"Ah. Yes. Her exams. The reason we have - all three of us - gathered here today," said Dumbledore slyly. He Banished his Butterbeer up to the bar and stood slowly. "Miss Black, if you will kindly come with me up to the castle, and Mr Riddle will wait for you here in the village."

"I'd like to escort Miss Black to Hogwarts," said Voldemort, but Dumbledore shook his head patiently and pointed out,

"There are many shops where you might browse, Mr Riddle, and even a bookshop to amuse you. Or you might have a cup of tea in Madam Pudifoot's."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "I'm familiar with Hogsmeade."

"I'm afraid you may not accompany Miss Black up to the castle," said Dumbledore. "You may wait here until her exam is finished, at which time I will bring her back down here so she might safely Apparate back to Malfoy Manor with you."

Voldemort snarled softly, but then he turned to Bellatrix, took her face in his hands, bent and gave her a brazen kiss on the lips, and murmured,

"Do well on your exam, Bella."

She was utterly shocked by that - by his kiss, by the way he'd spoken to her so gently in front of Dumbledore. She nodded and covered his hands with hers, and she promised him,

"I'll do well."

The walk up to the castle with Dumbledore was long and awkward, and they did not speak. Going back to the castle was less awkward than Bellatrix had anticipated, as everyone was in the middle of lessons and the corridors were quiet. She was led up to the Headmaster's office, and she eyed Dumbledore's pet phoenix and then saw that he'd set up a small desk for her in the cramped, portrait- and device-filled space. She sat at the small desk and sighed as Dumbledore set down a stack of parchments before her.

"You will have two hours to complete the exam on History of Magic, Miss Black," he said. "I will be working at my own desk whilst you complete the exam. Should you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask me."

"Thank you, sir," Bellatrix nodded. She waited for Dumbledore to sit, and she inked up her quill as she read the first essay prompt.

 _During the Muggle Roman invasion of Britain, a proliferation of pixies affected the battles on both sides. Give five other examples of when the presence of Magical Beasts or Beings in the setting of warfare had an effect of the outcome (both Magical and Muggle wars accepted)._

Bellatrix began writing about the interference of Mountain Trolls in the 12th century conflict between Ulric the Belcher and Hamprin the Grandiose. She was halfway through her sixth sentence when suddenly she blinked her eyes and felt a whooshing sensation. Now familiar, the feeling transported her away from Dumbledore's office at once.

"No!" Bellatrix screamed the word, for the feeling was unmistakable. She was being moved into that other dimension - into her mind. She felt herself thrown to the ground, and when she opened her eyes, she found herself on the beach with the large black rocks.

"Master!" she yelled, looking round for him. She didn't see him anywhere. She gasped in horror, for a wave crashed up onto her, soaking her through. Bellatrix dashed away from the sea in her thin, gauzy black dress and shrieked again, "Master!"

"Bellatrix!"

She whirled to see him sprinting toward her on the beach. He was running toward her as quickly as he could, and it began to rain onto the both of them.

"Go back!" he shouted at her. "Open your eyes! Take your exam!"

"How could this happen?" Bellatrix moaned, clutching at the hair that was getting more rain-soaked by the moment. "How could we -"

"I don't know." He held her shoulders. "I was in The Three Broomsticks drinking firewhisky. I don't know why it happened. Bellatrix, you need to come out of this. Open your eyes now."

She tried. She tried as hard as she could. She shut her eyes, wrenching, squeezing, but when she opened them, she was still on the beach with him. She began to cry, desperate and frightened, and she reminded him,

"We lose time in here! We lie on the bed and we're in here for what feels like an hour, and we come out and it's morning. Time is passing more quickly out there!"

"I know," he said, sounding just the slightest bit panicked. "You need to open your eyes. You need to come out of this. We both do. This isn't… this could ruin everything."

"Master, I'm sorry," Bellatrix sobbed. She blinked hard, opening and shutting her eyes, and she clutched at his rain-soaked robes as she pleaded with him, "I'm sorry, Master."

But then he was gone. He'd blinked out of it, it seemed. She was holding nothing, all of a sudden. He'd been standing there, and now he was gone from the beach. Bellatrix grinned madly and whispered,

"Oh, well done, Master," but then she realised she was still trapped. She was still stuck here. She fell to her knees on the beach and dragged her fingers through the sand, sobbing at the notion that she might have been permanently removed from the real world. She cried and cried, trying to wake up, trying to remove herself from this beach. Suddenly she felt, more than heard, her master's voice within her chest.

 _Open your eyes, Bella._

She blinked hard and fast, and then very abruptly, there was bright light. She was on her back. She was being yanked and pulled and thrown onto some soft surface. She had her hands folded on her chest as she sat up slowly and looked around.

She was in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Staring at her bed were Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix licked her lip and said carefully,

"May I reschedule my exam, Headmaster?"

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the lonely update today. I've developed bacterial bronchitis (the irony, given Bellatrix's troubles in this story, is not lost on me) and have less writing time while the nebulizer, steroids, antibiotics, and cough medicine do their thing. I appreciate your patience.**

 **ALSO! It is likely that I will not finish this story to a level of completion that I want before** _ **Fantastic Beasts**_ **comes out. For that reason, it is likely to become Part I of a series. Just a heads-up.**

 **As always, thanks for reading and please do leave a review if you get a spare moment.**


	15. Chapter 15

"My dear Miss Black," said Professor Dumbledore, knitting his hands together, "How good it is to see you awake."

Bellatrix flicked her eyes to Voldemort. He shook his head minutely, and she knew that Dumbledore knew nothing of what had truly happened. How had Voldemort managed to escape detection, she wondered? Hadn't he collapsed in The Three Broomsticks? How had he managed to get up here to Hogwarts? She frowned.

"What happened to me?" she asked innocently, and Dumbledore raised his grey eyebrows.

"Well," he said, "you were sitting your History of Magic exam when you very suddenly slumped and went unconscious. I tried to revive you with spellwork, to no avail. I then brought you here to the Hospital Wing, where our own dear Madam Holbrook administered several potions, which had no effect. We became quite worried indeed, and decided after several hours to send for Mr Riddle down in Hogsmeade village."

"Professor Plumtree found me in The Three Broomsticks," said Voldemort confidently, "drinking firewhisky."

Bellatrix understood now. Whomever had seen Tom Riddle slump over in whatever table he'd been sitting in, he'd Obliviated or Confounded them all. He'd cleaned up his mess. She gulped. Dumbledore pushed up his half-moon spectacles and said carefully,

"You both will forgive my curiosity, but since we were so very concerned about Miss Black's welfare, I used the ancient art of Legilimency upon her mind whilst she was unconscious."

Voldemort glared at Dumbledore. "You did what?"

Dumbledore stayed calm as Bellatrix's heart raced. He said patiently, "I entered her mind to ensure she was not undergoing any sort of crisis that would necessitate emergency staff from St Mungo's."

"And what did you find, Dumbledore?" snarled Voldemort. Dumbledore turned slowly to Voldemort and said,

"I found a couple on a beach with large black rocks, discussing an exam. Discussing the need to get out quickly, to wake up. Frantic. Lost… lost in their own minds, I believe."

"You have no idea what you saw," Voldemort insisted, though to Bellatrix it sounded an awful lot like Dumbledore understood far too well what he'd seen. Voldemort barked, "Bellatrix needs to get back to Malfoy Manor now and… rest. She will not be taking her exams. They are cancelled."

"Cancelled?" Dumbledore furrowed his brows and turned to Bellatrix. "Miss Black, you seemed adamant about taking your exams. I assure you that despite today's mishap, they can be rescheduled."

"No." Bellatrix felt the strong urge to obey her master, and she shook her head. "No, Headmaster; I will not be taking my exams."

"The things you do to other people, Tom, to get your way," Dumbledore said suddenly, seeming to lose his cool just a little. Voldemort tipped his head and shrugged.

"I saved her life."

Dumbledore narrowed his pale eyes. "You stole her soul."

Voldemort tipped up his chin. "She was already mine."

"One person does not belong to another, Tom. You will learn this with time," Dumbledore said, his voice shaking a little. "Miss Black, if you are quite well, you and Mr Riddle may leave the school grounds."

That sounded more like an order than an invitation, so Bellatrix hurried out of the hospital bed and seized Voldemort's hand. She determinedly stared up at him and, right there in front of Dumbledore, said firmly,

"Master? Let's go home."

* * *

"Should we be concerned?" asked Bellatrix as she scrubbed her face with soap in her bathroom. She was unashamed, these days, of cleaning her teeth in front of Voldemort or changing clothes in front of him. They were supremely intimate, the two of them.

"Concerned?" He appeared in the doorway in his pyjamas and leaned against the doorjamb. He crossed his arms over his chest. "About what happened today? Yes. Probably. I can't think about it right now. It troubles my mind too greatly. Listen. Bellatrix. I want you to start sitting in on meetings."

"Meetings." She rinsed her face and patted it dry with a washcloth, and then she began to plait her hair into pigtail braids for bedtime. She stared at him in the mirror as she braided. "You want me in meetings?"

He nodded. "It's high time you knew the ins and outs of the movement. Not just what I'm doing and why, but how. I want you to understand where the funding is coming from, who the players are, who we perceive our enemies to be, where we anticipate stumbling blocks… all of this gets discussed around dining tables and office desks, and I want you there to hear it all."

"Master…" Bellatrix's cheeks went hot, and she flushed with an odd sensation. "I do not feel worthy."

"It is up to me to determine whether or not you are worthy," Voldemort said sharply, "and I have decided that you are indeed worthy. More than that, you are necessary. So you'll be at a meeting tomorrow with Avery and Mulciber and I to discuss attempts to ally with the centaurs."

"That sounds thrilling!" Bellatrix tied off her second braid and turned round. She rushed toward Voldemort and threw her arms around him, and she buried her face in his chest as she whispered, "Thank you for entrusting me to be a part of your movement, Master. I'll make you proud."

"You always make me proud, Bella." His voice was strange then, and as she backed away, she frowned up at him to see the odd look in his eye. His throat bobbed, and he said seriously, "There is something I need to say to you."

"All right." Bellatrix felt anxious now. She curled in on herself a little, but then Voldemort said in a steady, low voice,

"When I awoke in The Three Broomsticks, a small crowd had gathered, thinking I was a passed-out drunk. It took some effort to Confound all of them, believe me. And then the professor came down from the school and I realised… she's still in there. All of this time has passed in this real world, and she's still stuck in there. And I began to fear… what if she doesn't come out?"

"I began to fear the same thing, Master," Bellatrix confessed. Voldemort sighed.

"It was the same crippling fear, the same ache of impending loss, that I felt when I thought you were going to die," he said, "and I don't ever wish to feel it again. I hate that feeling more than I can say."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but he shook his head and told her,

"It made me realise something. It made me realise that all these terrible, wonderful things I've been experiencing about you… toward you… it made me realise what they are."

"What are they?" Bellatrix asked fearfully, and Voldemort took a long moment before he finally choked out,

"Love."

Silence fell, and Bellatrix couldn't breathe for a while. But then Voldemort said,

"A perverted love, I'm sure. A love that would sicken the hearts of kind souls like Albus Dumbledore. After all, I own you now. And you are young and beautiful, and I am… not. And I never thought I would feel anything remotely resembling love, Bellatrix. I never supposed I would even be capable of it. For weeks, I have been pestered by the spectre of it, and now I know. Unequivocally. Without any question. That is what I feel for you. Love. So."

Bellatrix just stared at him in silence, and he threw his hands up and whispered,

"So that's that."

"There will be battles," Bellatrix said quietly, and Voldemort's face shifted a little. He nodded, drawing Bellatrix near. He held her face in his hands and bent to kiss her.

"You'll kill for me."

"I'll do everything you command of me, Master," Bellatrix promised. She let him kiss her for a long moment, and then he pulled back and whispered,

"I want control."

At once, she understood what he meant. Earlier today, they'd gone to the beach during a transport beyond their control. They needed to practise going into their minds of their own volition to prevent accidents like what had happened today. They needed to strengthen their control. His control.

"Where shall we go?" Bellatrix asked, and he smirked as he studied her face and murmured,

"To the forest."

Then he took her hand and led her into the bedroom.

 **THE END**

 **Author's Note: I have decided that this will definitely be Part I of THE DREAM SERIES, with Part II (** _ **The Winds We Set To Howling**_ **) to be written after I write my** _ **Fantastic Beasts**_ **fic. So definitely keep an eye out for** _ **The Winds We Set To Howling,**_ **which will see a time jump at the beginning. I hope you've enjoyed** _ **Unsentimental Creatures Are We**_ **, and thank you so much for reading and especially for reviewing.**


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